


Hannibal Heyes Confronts the Hound of Heaven

by IdaArmindaMoss



Series: Let Him That Stole Steal No More [7]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Christian content, Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, Gen, Religious Discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdaArmindaMoss/pseuds/IdaArmindaMoss
Summary: Everything keeps going awry for Hannibal Heyes.  He makes the best decisions he can for himself, his partner, and his betrothed lady, but finds that over and over again he is freshly out of rabbits to pull from his hat.  A flash flood in the Big Thompson Canyon of northern Colorado adds to their troubles.  In addition to the main plot lines, which address Heyes being obliged to think seriously about God, this story touches on parts of two episodes:  The Long Chase, and The Ten Days That Shook Kid Curry, retold to fix some plot problems and to feature the "real" Heyes, as portrayed by Pete Duel.
Series: Let Him That Stole Steal No More [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244081
Comments: 13
Kudos: 8





	1. The Long Chase Nears Its End

**Author's Note:**

> The story title is a reference to Francis Thompson's mystical Christian poem, "The Hound of Heaven", written circa 1886 and first published in 1893. 
> 
> Casting:  
> Pete Duel as Hannibal Heyes  
> Ben Murphy as Kid Curry  
> J. D. Cannon as Detective Harry Briscoe  
> Bill Fletcher as Doc Holliday (if the reader desires -- bearing in mind that Doc Holliday was in actuality younger than Heyes)  
> Jessica Stroup as Paula Wellington  
> Richard Long as Richard Bancroft, Counsellor-at-Law
> 
> English spelling and hyphenation conventions follow those in use at the time of the story, as far as possible. Many features which we now think of as typically American did not actually come into common use until after the presidency of Theodore Roosevelt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long chase nears its end for Hannibal Heyes. The danger of capture and arrest is no worse than it has ever been, but now there is another pursuit behind him. Kid Curry, knowing that there is only so much he can do, provides moral support and such help as he can, after recovering from a concussion received in a fall from a moving train.

**North-eastern Colorado [1], Thursday, April 27th, 1882 **

Miss Paula Wellington, her fiancé Hannibal Heyes, and his cousin Kid Curry rode slowly along, enjoying the spring day on the eastern Colorado plains. The high-paying job for which they had left Denver and gone to Sterling in such a hurry, rather than travelling south to Junction City in New Mexico Territory as they had been asked to do after Easter, had turned out to be cutting ties for the railroad, which was laying track in that area. Finding the work uncongenial and the pay not even close to what had been promised, they had only stayed in Sterling two days.

They hoped to reach Fort Morgan before dark, spend the night there, and then push on west, planning to make a brief visit to the C Bar W Ranch in Estes Park before turning south to Junction City to deliver Richard Bancroft’s letter. One comfort was that Bancroft had indicated there was no particular urgency in getting his letter to Judge Hanley and Counsellor Brubaker delivered—if there had been, he would simply have posted it. He preferred, for his own reasons, to have them deliver the letter by hand.

Heyes felt a little guilty about keeping Miss Wellington away from the heavy spring work at the ranch for so long. Both she and her brother had assured him that the ranch could manage without her, and Wellington had added that he saw no objection to her travelling with the two outlaws as long as they continued to take pains to protect her reputation. They had intended to go straight to Estes Park and the ranch after leaving Telluride six weeks earlier, stopping briefly in Denver for Easter services, but events had not worked out that way. 

Ahead, they saw a man driving a wagon pulled by one horse, drawn to the side of the road. The man had gone to his horse’s head and appeared to be adjusting the harness. He waved in a friendly way at the riders, and Heyes called “Howdy” in return. As they passed, however, they noticed that the man was staring at them fixedly.

“Almost like he recognizes us,” mused Kid. “Suppose we ought to worry about that?”

“If he does anything about it, yeah, we might.” Just then they heard sounds indicating that the man had started his horse. Heyes glanced over his shoulder and saw the wagon driver hurrying down the road toward the nearest town, urging his horse to greater speed. Without a word, he dropped his rein hand and shifted his weight forward in the saddle, causing the chestnut mare to spring into a gallop as though she had been shot from a cannon. The others were beside him in a moment, even the Arabian mule, Prudence, who loved to run, galloping beside Miss Wellington’s mare on a loose lead rope, matching the horses stride for stride.

As the road curved around to the south and entered a belt of trees, putting them momentarily out of sight of the wagon driver if he should happen to turn and look back, Heyes drew rein and slackened the pace to a slow canter[2], giving the horses a chance to breathe and making it possible to converse without shouting. “Paula, listen to me. This is one part of my life I don’t want you to share. We’re going to have to split up.”

“Oh, but … I can keep up, and I might be useful.”

“No. Do as I say and don’t argue. There isn’t time.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

“As soon as there’s a choice of roads, you take one way and we’ll go the other. If we get to the tracks before the road forks, Kid and I’ll jump a train, and you’ll take our horses with you. It might confuse the pursuit a little bit. Can you keep ’em running, leading three?”

“Yes, if you hook your lead rope to my saddle horn and Kid attaches his to Prudence’s pack saddle. They’re used to running together.”

“As soon as you can, you go to Fort Collins. Take a room in a hotel there—the one closest to the railroad station. Wait for us a week. If we haven’t come in seven days, you can make your own decisions about what to do next. But we’ll be there.”

“If I don’t hear from you in a week, I’ll leave word at the ranch by telegraph, and you should do the same.”

“That’ll work. Clear?”

“I take a different road, or take your horses with me if you have to jump a train. I take a room in Fort Collins, in the hotel nearest the station, and wait for you a week. Beyond that, I’ll leave word at the ranch where I can be found.”

“Good girl.”

“God keep you in his care. I’ll be praying for both of you. I love you, darling.”

“And I love you,” Heyes replied. Satisfied that he had done all he could to keep her safe, he pushed his horse into a gallop again.

“Comin’ up on the tracks, Heyes. And the road goes beside the tracks, except to the west there, where it keeps going due west while the tracks go more south,” Kid pointed out after they had gone about three miles. “Look.” He pointed down the tracks to the southwest. In the distance, they could see the smoke from an approaching train.

“Good. It’s comin’ this way. You’ll go west, then, Paula.” Heyes’s voice conveyed more confidence than he felt, but his lady simply nodded once, making no reply.

They slowed their horses and turned west to approach the water tower for which the train was making. They would have no trouble boarding it there when it stopped to take on water.

Dismounting quickly, Heyes snugged a loop of his mare’s lead rope over Paula’s saddle horn, tying his reins in a knot so they wouldn’t fall. Kid did the same, attaching his lead rope to the mule’s pack saddle. Heyes stretched his hand up to his betrothed. “Do you have enough money?”

“Yes, I have the reserve fund, you know—but you two may need more. Here.” She pulled the bag holding the reserve funds out of the pocket in her skirt where it was kept, extracted a hundred dollars in gold and another hundred in currency, and handed the money to Heyes. Then she leaned toward him, low enough for him to reach her lips with a kiss. Turning her horse, she urged the cavalcade into a trot, then faster until they were galloping, heading west along the road, the wind of her passage drying the tears rolling down her cheeks. 

The outlaws stepped back into the shadow of the water tower so the train crew wouldn’t see them and divine their intentions. They waited, determined to try boarding the train just as it was beginning to gather speed after taking on water. Heyes could taste the salt on his lips where Paula’s tears had touched them. “She was cryin’, Kid. I can taste it.”

“’Spect she was. I know she promised to obey you in a case like this, but she probably didn’t think it would mean separating.”

“No. Well, I’m not worried about her. She’ll be all right. It’s us that’s in trouble. Be careful now.” This last was uttered as the train began to pull away from the water tower and they made ready to scramble into one of the box cars.

They boarded without incident, and found that they were not the only unauthorized passengers. Sitting on a pile of straw in a corner was a dishevelled and unshaven man whom they recognized, with difficulty, as Detective Harry Bartholomew Briscoe of the Bannerman Detective Agency. They fell into conversation and discovered that he had been dismissed from Bannerman’s for incompetence and was thinking of making his way to the west coast to seek a position in law enforcement. He had, however, retained possession of his identification papers from the agency.

This made Heyes start to think. He couldn’t quite understand why Bannerman’s had let Briscoe go. He wasn’t the smartest detective they had, of course, but he was tenacious and brave and actually quite good at some aspects of his job, especially the investigation side of it. He was also possessed of a number of odd facts which even Heyes didn’t know. It was Briscoe who told them why a man from the sheriff’s posse that had eventually almost caught up to the train had climbed a telegraph pole, his belt strung with odd bits of equipment that would enable him to send a telegraph by modulating the electrical current directly on the line. Driven by their imminent danger, Heyes came up with an idea. If they could make Harry presentable before the train reached Little Grand, he could tell the local law officer that he had put Heyes and Curry under arrest and was taking them to Wyoming. That would at least give them an opportunity to put some miles between themselves and the small-town law, as well as the traveller who had given the alarm about them.

Things did not work out quite as smoothly as Heyes had hoped. The faked arrest had worked well enough, but Sheriff Tankersley, who seemed to be an intelligent, rather suspicious man, had sent a young deputy with them in a chartered stagecoach to help Harry get them to Cheyenne, while he himself wired the Bannerman agency about Briscoe’s status. As soon as he’d received the wire saying that Briscoe no longer worked with Bannerman’s, he had set out after them.

Harry Briscoe, his wits sharpened by fright, had managed to get them away from both the deputy and the pursuing posse, and the three of them had scrambled aboard a train, a west-bound one being unfortunately the only one available, where things immediately became yet more complicated. Two somewhat belligerent strangers were in prior possession of their chosen box car, and seemed at first disinclined to permit the three fugitives to join their company. Heyes did some fast talking, ably supported by Kid and Harry, and the two groups settled down uneasily several feet away from one another. 

Almost immediately, Harry began talking of the danger his two friends would be in if they entered the town of Little Grand. While this was certainly true, Heyes was puzzled at his bringing it up, seemingly to no purpose. Briscoe continued, fluently making a case for his two companions to leave the train about ten miles from the town, where there was a nest of rocks in which they could take shelter temporarily. While he talked, he moved his hand around behind Heyes and began jabbing his thumb into Heyes’s back. When the Bannerman man assured them he would send horses and supplies to them at their hiding place as soon as he could arrange it, Heyes took a calculated risk, based on his certainty that Harry never did anything without a reason, as well as his trust in Harry’s friendship and gratitude. He jumped from the train at the appointed spot, following by his complaining and bewildered partner.

Even after Heyes had explained his reasons for following Briscoe’s lead, Kid was doubtful. His doubts increased as the last of the long day passed, and then the night, the solitude broken only by the return of part of the weary and disappointed posse, passing by on the road that ran past their hiding place. 

**Friday, April 28th**

Heyes knew they ought to wait where Briscoe expected them to be, though the detective had not mentioned any specific length of time, unlike that contained in Heyes’s instructions to his betrothed. But as his partner became more and more dissatisfied, harping on the lack of food and water, and the distance they would have to walk to the town in order to obtain supplies and horses, Heyes reluctantly allowed himself to be persuaded that the promised help might not come. They would have to help themselves, which meant trying to board a train as it went by at more than twenty-five miles per hour.

As they approached the train they had selected to make their attempt, they saw Harry Briscoe framed in a window of one of the passenger coaches, waving at them and smiling. Heyes took this to mean that he had made arrangements to send horses and was trying to reassure them. He started to wave back, but was distracted by Kid’s very different response.

Tired, hungry, and out of sorts from the long enforced wait without water or food, Curry had tossed aside all considerations such as their previous good relationship with the Bannerman man. The sight of Briscoe at the window made him so angry he couldn’t think clearly, apparently jumping to the conclusion that Harry was waving at them to let them know he’d deserted them and was off to see to his own affairs. 

Even as they ran for the train, Heyes was puzzled. Kid usually let him do the thinking for the pair, and Heyes had already decided Briscoe could be trusted. He’d even explained his reasons. Apparently, thought Heyes, Curry hadn’t been listening, or the lack of food and water had clouded his judgment. Heyes put on a burst of speed, grabbed for a vertical hand-bar at the end of one of the cars, and managed to pull himself up, turning to watch as Kid missed his first hold and made a second attempt. He saw Curry pull himself up to get a toe-hold on a ledge above the wheels; then, inexplicably, he lost his hold and fell heavily. 

Seeing no movement, Heyes jumped, landing hard and rolling into a ball to absorb the shock of his fall, then scrambling to his feet and running to drop to his knees beside the motionless body of his partner. He pressed his ear to Kid’s chest, but he could hear only the quickened beats of his own heart. Kid didn’t seem to be breathing, but maybe he’d just had the breath knocked out of him, falling on his back as he had. Pushing the neckerchief aside, Heyes tried to check the pulse in the large artery running down the side of the neck. There seemed to be a confused sensation there, but he could feel nothing that resembled a heartbeat.

Heyes took a deep breath, trying to calm his rising panic. _You’re not going to get any pulse but your own if you don’t calm down_ , he admonished himself. No distinguishable pulse in the wrist, either. He caught his breath on a ragged sob, the crazy thought running through the back of his mind that it was a good thing that Kid was unconscious, so he wouldn’t hear. If it was unconsciousness. Tears came to his eyes. First the unwilling parting from his lady, and now this. If Kid was dead, he would be alone. All alone.

Suddenly he remembered what Kid had told him, last summer after he’d been baptized. They were never alone. Jesus Christ, who loved them enough to die for them, was always there. Heyes didn’t feel the comforting presence that Kid said he felt, but he bowed his head, tears blurring his sight as he stammered a desperate prayer, hoping the Lord would listen for his cousin’s sake, if not his.[3]

“Jesus! Don’t let him die!” Hardly able to get the words out, he gasped hoarsely, “If You save his life, I’ll give ...”

He broke off as Kid stirred under his hands, gave a groan and squinted his eyes against the sun. Hastily, Heyes picked up Curry’s fallen hat and used it to shield his face. 

Kid reached out to touch the hand resting on his shoulder. “Did you jump off the train?”

“Yeah,” said Heyes, suddenly embarrassed at the thought of how much Kid might have heard. “I had one of those moments of stupidity.” He forced a grin. “Come on, let’s get you out of the sun. Can you sit up?”

Curry groaned again, trying to put his hand to the back of his head. “I think so. Must have hit pretty hard.” As he started to sit up, Heyes’s arm behind his shoulders, he gripped his partner’s hand. “No—I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

Heyes eased him back down to a horizontal position. When a man had a concussion, sometimes trying to sit up brought on nausea. He had seen that happen before. There was nothing to be done except to shield his partner’s face and wait until he felt able to move. _At least it’s just a concussion. We can deal with that. Good thing I didn’t get a chance to finish that prayer_. Then he took that thought out and examined it more closely. _No, that won’t work. Maybe I didn’t finish it aloud, but God knew what I was gonna say, that I’d give Him my life if He made sure Kid was O.K. He did His part. Kid’s gonna be fine—that is, if Briscoe sends horses like he promised, and we get out of this hobble we’re in. Now I’ve gotta do mine_. Uncomfortable, he pushed that thought away, knowing he’d have to return to it later, but unwilling to do so until he’d managed to get his partner out of the sun and into some kind of shelter.

Opening his eyes cautiously, lest the pounding headache and nausea should overwhelm him again, Kid Curry looked up. His partner was sitting beside him tailor-fashion, holding the brim of the brown hat between Curry’s face and the sun while his eyes kept roving around the horizon and down the tracks, looking for any unexpected movement. Kid scanned his cousin’s high-cheekboned, angled face and dark brown eyes quickly, looking for some indication that he had really heard what he thought he’d heard, just as he was coming around after the fall. It had sounded an awful lot like Heyes had been on the brink of making some kind of promise or bargain with God. He sighed. Heyes had a strong sense of honor, and he could be awfully stubborn. Kid knew that once he had made such a promise, he would do what he had said, no matter what the cost, whether it was the right thing to do or not.

But the sigh had attracted Heyes’s attention. He looked down. “Feelin’ better?”

“Yeah, a little. Let’s try and get back to those rocks, ’stead of just stayin’ here in the sun.” With the support of Heyes’s arm, Curry carefully raised himself to a sitting position. _So far, so good_. Moving slowly, he got to his knees and then to his feet, leaning on his cousin. Once they were up, Heyes slipped his arm around Curry’s back and pulled his partner’s arm over his shoulders. They walked slowly, making for the shelter of the rocks where they had spent the night.

Once Kid felt steadier on his feet, he began trying once again to convince Heyes that they would have to take responsibility for their own predicament. They needed water, and if Briscoe wasn’t going to send the horses he had promised, that meant walking toward the town. They might find water before they got there, but it was a certainty they’d find none if they stayed where they were.

Heyes still believed that Harry Briscoe would send help, and suggested that Kid would be better staying off his feet for a while, but after some argument, he gave in, and they began to walk. They hadn’t been on their way for more than twenty minutes before they saw a boy riding toward them, leading two horses. “I told you,” said Heyes. “Harry wouldn’t let us down.”

Making no reply to this, Kid concentrated on having enough fortitude to get to the horses and get a drink from the canteen he could see on the saddle, while Heyes assured the boy that they were indeed the Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones he’d been sent to find. They parted from the boy amicably, having tipped him lavishly in addition to the money Briscoe had paid him, and were soon on their way.

*** *** ***

Risking a brief glance over her shoulder, Paula caught a quick glimpse of the outlaws swinging themselves aboard the train. That eliminated one problem. She had been prepared to risk Heyes’s displeasure by doubling back if their attempt to catch the train had proven unsuccessful. Leaving them stranded without transportation was no part of what she was willing to do. She urged the horses to push on at the best pace they could make, keeping an eye on Joe, Kid’s black bay. The big gelding was the fastest of the four animals over short distances, but as they continued to run and endurance came into play, he would start to slow down. As he tired, only determination and love for his master would enable him to keep up—and Curry wasn’t here. She chirped to the horse, giving what encouragement she could. It helped that he was accompanied by two mares and a molly mule. The big guy wouldn’t be beaten by a bunch of females if he could help it.

Some time later, she heard multiple hoof beats on the road behind her and snatched another glance. It looked like a posse had reached the water tower and had then split up. Some of the men were pursuing her and the horses, while the others turned in the opposite direction. Bending low over her saddle horn, she increased the pace, hoping to outrun them. When the road ahead of her forked again, she unhesitatingly took the road that led due west. The other fork seemed to turn south to intersect the railroad, which she didn’t want. After a little more than thirty minutes, during which she judged they had covered about six miles, she no longer heard the sounds of pursuit. Looking back again, she saw that the posse was turning back, giving up the chase. She eased the horses down to a canter.

Nothing moved on the road except Miss Wellington, the three horses, and the mule. They had done almost twelve miles at a run, with very little opportunity to rest. All four were sweating and lathered, but breathing fairly easily and not in any distress. As usual, the mule seemed to be in the best shape of all.

After holding them to a walk until they cooled, she resumed the usual distance-eating trot. All the while, she was praying, tears very close to the surface, for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. This was the closest she had ever come to one of the ever-present dangers of their lives as wanted men, with a posse in hot pursuit. She knew they were both experienced at evading such dangers, and that Heyes was clever and resourceful. Still, only God could protect them now. She had long since stopped worrying about the problematic ethics of asking God to keep two wanted outlaws, who had actually committed the crimes for which they were wanted, out of the hands of the law until they could gain the amnesty they had been promised. If it was wrong to pray that they would get away safely, then she and Lillian O’More, and Dr. Allan MacKenzie and Sheriff Bob Anderson of Idaho Springs, and Belle and Jesse Jordan of Denver and their daughters, and Richard and Hannah Bancroft of Telluride, were all involved in wrong-doing. It was too late to worry about that now. Besides, it seemed to her that the Lord had shown His willingness to answer such prayers back in the previous spring, when Heyes had prayed for a place to hide from their enemies, and the Lord had sent them straight to Dr. MacKenzie. _Dear Lord, I know You have some kind of wonderful future planned for both of them, plans which You’ve let Lillian and me share. Please remember Heyes, and Kid, and keep them safe. Send them help to stay out of the hands of the law, and bring them safely to join me in Fort Collins. In Your dear name I pray, Amen_. And then, from time to time as the thought crossed her mind, almost in rhythm with her breathing and the hoof beats of her horse, she sent up a brief prayer. _Oh, Lord, keep them safe. Bring him back to me. Keep them safe_.

Spending the night in Fort Morgan, she set out the next day for Greeley, where she intended to take a train on the Greeley, Salt Lake, and Pacific Railroad, loading the horses into the stock car which every train had, this far out on the prairie, in addition to its passenger consist. The newly built standard-gauge route ran straight across the prairie to Fort Collins, where Colorado’s land-grant college was located. It was close to the town of Loveland and the northernmost trail into Estes Park, which was probably why Heyes had selected it as a convenient meeting place.

Once arrived in Fort Collins, Paula stabled her mounts at the livery stable, took a room at the hotel nearest the station as she had been instructed to do, and settled down to wait. The town was familiar to her from the time she had taken a course in animal husbandry at Colorado Agricultural College, established in 1879. Her brother had thought it would be a good idea if both of them had some formal training in what they wanted to do at the ranch, and he and she had taken turns travelling down to Fort Collins and taking advantage of what the college offered. 

On Sunday, April 30th, her second day in the town, she attended the service of Holy Communion at the tiny St. Luke’s Episcopal Mission, housed in Tutton’s Hall, a small building at the corner of Mountain Avenue and Linden Street. The Revd. Mr. Pattee[4] had preached an excellent sermon, and, at her request, had added the names Joshua and Thaddeus to his list of those needing the prayers of the congregation. After eating lunch at one of the restaurants with which the town seemed to be lavishly provided, she occupied her time as best she could, reading, knitting, tatting a little bit, and praying for the men constantly. 

*** *** ***

Heyes and Curry took their time, riding mostly at a walk in consideration of the severe headaches which still plagued the Kid, and going considerably out of their direct route in order to avoid the stretch of road where they had first been spotted by the wagon driver. The delay meant that they reached the little town of Beaver Creek Station[5] well after dark on Friday night, weary and looking forward to some kind of overnight accommodations in the small, rough hotel which was all that the former cattle-shipping station was able to boast.

The next day, Kid was feeling a good deal better, and after a good breakfast at a café which catered primarily to cattlemen, the outlaws rode the ten miles to Fort Morgan, where they found that the next train for Denver did not leave until the following morning. They took a room at a boarding house which had been built to house the workmen who had worked on the railroad, completed earlier that same year. Over his partner’s protests, Heyes found a local doctor who was willing to come to the boarding house after church services to look at Kid’s head, verifying that there were no skull fractures and that no care other than rest and quiet was needed for the concussion. When told that the pair planned to travel to Fort Collins, the doctor heartily concurred in Heyes’s decision to take the train to Denver and another train north to their destination, rather than attempting to ride sixty miles across the prairie to Greeley in order to catch a direct train.

Having assured themselves that the local lawmen had no interest in them and that seats were available on the train they intended to take, they sold their horses and spent the remainder of the quiet Sunday resting, eating three lavish meals of the good food provided by the woman who ran the boarding house. 

On Monday morning, the train from Denver pulled into Fort Collins, and the two men stepped down onto the platform, Heyes scanning the area and the nearby buildings to orient himself. He knew which of the two hotels was closer to the station, and having ascertained there was no one on the platform whom he knew, for good or bad, he set out to walk the half block to the nearer hotel, Kid following more slowly in his wake. 

Northern Hotel lobby, Fort Collins, 1880s

Thus it came about that when Paula Wellington looked up from her Bible for the twentieth time, unable to concentrate on what she read or to get much work done on her knitting, she saw Heyes and Kid just crossing the lobby, the morning sun catching chestnut highlights in the outlaw leader’s dark hair as he passed through the beams of light coming from the south window. With a gasp of surprise and delight, she raised her hand to attract his attention, but he had already seen her. She came to her feet and flung herself into his arms, weeping. “Heyes,” she whispered. “Oh, thank God, thank God!” Anything else she had intended to say was smothered as his lips met hers, his strong arms holding her close.

“There, it’s O.K.,” Heyes soothed, feeling rather helpless. “I’m here. We’re all right. Shh, now.” He kissed her again, gently, and then recalled that they were in a public place and looked around to see who might be watching. Fortunately, there was only the desk clerk and a man reading a newspaper, neither paying any attention to them. 

Kid had seen the two men observe the reunion and kisses with interest, then hastily avert their eyes as the kiss ended, but he said nothing.

Paula looked from one to the other. “It looks like you’ve had a rough time,” she observed.

“Yeah, Kid did, but I’m fine. We did have a little excitement.”

“Darling, you don’t look fine. Something’s happened to distress you.”

“Well ...” Heyes was uneasy. “We didn’t get arrested, anyway. We can talk about it later. For now, how about going home?”

“To the ranch?”

“Why not? Your brother said he was hoping we’d come and help with the work. We can’t stay long, but we can pay a visit. If we leave right now, we can be there a little after dark. The moon’s nearly full, too.” [6]

“I’ll pack my things,” said Paula quickly. 

* * *

[1] q.v. the third-season episode “The Long Chase.” The episode is rather full of geographical impossibilities, such as saying that they are in Utah and then that Cheyenne, Wyoming is due north of them, so for purposes of this story, the reference to Cheyenne being north of them has been taken as the true location, putting them in north-eastern Colorado somewhere between Fort Collins and Sterling.

[2] The 20th-century distinction between Western riders who call this gait a lope and English riders who call it a canter does not appear to have existed in the 1880s, according to contemporary documents, so the term “canter” has been used throughout.

[3] The only way to make sense of what we hear Heyes saying in the episode at this point is to assume it is part of a prayer. To take it as an exclamation of profanity would require ignoring network standards in force at the time.

[4] The Revd. D. C. Pattee was the minister of this little mission church in 1888, which is the earliest date for which the author was able to find such information. At that time there were 64 registered members.

[5] Now Brush, Colorado.

[6] [http://aa.usno.navy.mil/rstt/onedaytable?ID=AA&year=1882&month=5&day=1&state=CO&place=Estes+Park](http://aa.usno.navy.mil/rstt/onedaytable?ID=AA&year=1882&month=5&day=1&state=CO&place=Estes+Park)


	2. The Posse That Wouldn't Quit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flash flood makes the trail through Big Thompson Canyon more dangerous than Heyes and his party expected--and that's just the beginning.

**West of Loveland, Colorado, May 1st and 2d, 1882**

Reaching the town of Loveland in the early afternoon, the party stopped to dine at a café before setting out to ride to the lower end of the narrow and twisting Big Thompson Canyon. Once they reached the wide meadow at the foot of the canyon, it would take them about five hours to climb the trail to the connection with the side canyon to the north, ride up the trail which followed the North Fork, and arrive at the ranch.

Big Thompson Canyon, at the Narrows, looking east (20th-century photo)

“With the moon rising so early, and up most of the night, it’s almost as though the ranch is welcoming you home,” Heyes suggested.

“Welcoming _us_. It’s your home, too, or it will be. But I hope that doesn’t mean that you plan to abandon me there. There’s lots of work to do, and I’ve not been home to do it, because of the various emergencies we’ve had to face, but … I don’t want you to leave me and go off somewhere.”

“No need to worry about that,” he reminded her. “Even if I wanted to leave you, which I don’t, Richard wanted you to be along when we deliver that letter in Junction City. We need to go there next—in fact, he’s probably wondering why he hasn’t heard from us about that already.”

Curry, who had been wondering when this would occur to his partner, smiled but said nothing. 

As they rode, Paula gave a brief summary of her movements from the time she had parted from them northeast of Fort Morgan, assuring Heyes that everything had gone smoothly and she had encountered no trouble of any kind. “Now you should tell me how things went for the two of you. I can see it wasn’t quite as trouble-free as my trip.”

“Well, no, but we didn’t get arrested, except for a friendly arrest by Harry Briscoe, who we met on that first train we hopped.” Aided by Kid, Heyes gave her a brief description of the events of the previous Thursday and Friday. He told the story as amusingly as he could, making light of the danger and emphasizing instead the unexpected meeting with Briscoe.

When he saw that Heyes was having trouble explaining why they had decided to try to catch a relatively fast-moving train, Curry intervened and continued the story. “Heyes was sure we could trust Briscoe, and he was right, as usual, but I was hot and hungry and tired, and I just couldn’t see it. I figured Harry didn’t tell us the reasons he wanted us to leave the train because he didn’t have any good reasons. Then when we saw him waving at us, well, I just kinda lost my temper. Now I come to think about it, of course he wouldn’t sit on that side of the train, where we could see him, and wave at us if he just wanted to let us know he wasn’t gonna bother to send help like he promised.”

Heyes sighed.

“Don’t say it, Heyes.”

“I didn’t say a word!”

“We ran for the train,” Kid continued, having assured himself that his partner did not plan to venture a comment, “and Heyes got a good hold and pulled himself aboard. I missed my first jump, then got a hold on my second try. And Heyes is gonna have to finish telling you this part, because I don’t remember all of it.”

“Somehow he lost his grip,” said Heyes. “Fell hard, straight onto his back, and didn’t move. I jumped off and ran to him. I thought he was dead there for a minute. He must have got the breath knocked out of him, because I couldn’t feel any breathing. The bad thing was, I couldn’t find a good pulse, either.” He turned his head a little to meet his sweetheart’s gaze with a quizzical smile that had a hint of defiance in it. “So I prayed. Nothin’ fancy—I just said, ‘Jesus, don’t let him die!’ And he started comin’ around. I shielded his face from the sun until he was able to get up, and then we went back to the rocks where we’d been hiding. Not too long after that, we started walking toward the town, and met up with a boy bringing us the horses Harry had sent. We spent the night in Beaver Creek Station, and the next night in Fort Morgan, where I got a doctor to see to Kid’s head. From there, we took the train to Denver, changed trains for Fort Collins, and came to join you. That’s about all, really.”

Her lips parted and her breath coming quickly, Paula was about to say that she was glad to hear of the Lord’s answer to her prayers for their safety, when Kid interrupted.

“That’s not quite all, Heyes.”

His partner shot him a quick look.

“I thought I heard you say somethin’ else. While you were prayin’. Somethin’ about savin’ my life, and ‘I’ll give’, you said. Then you stopped.”

“Thought you were still out cold,” replied Heyes indignantly.

“I almost was. It was kinda like a dream. I heard your voice, but I couldn’t make out any words. And then, it was like the second half of a long sentence, real faint. Just the words, ‘save his life’, and the other thing.”

There was a silence broken only by the sound of their horses’ hoof beats on the road. Kid continued, after a pause, “If you’re gonna say I didn’t really hear that, well, you’re probably right. Let’s talk about somethin’ else.”

Heyes’s lips tightened. With this all-too-helpful suggestion, Kid was offering his partner a way out of an uncomfortable conversation, which implied that Kid thought he needed looking after. _Maybe he’s right. But I’m_ through _forcing them to be tactful so I can keep ducking this_. “No, you heard it. I said to the Lord, ‘If You save his life, I’ll give …’ and then, like you said, I didn’t finish the sentence because you gave a moan and started comin’ around. But what I meant to say—what I _did_ say, was ‘I’ll give You my life’.” He saw the shock on the others’ faces and added, “I meant I’d give God control of my life, like you did last summer, Kid.”

“But you didn’t finish the sentence,” Kid pointed out.

“No, but that doesn’t make any difference. God knows what I was thinking. And He did His part. Now …”

“Wait a minute,” his cousin protested. “Heyes, that ain’t right, usin’ me to make some kind of a deal with God.”

“But I did it. I offered all I had to give. Looks like to me God accepted my stake. Now I gotta pay up.” He reined his horse to a stop and the others followed suit.

Kid shook his head stubbornly. “No. You don’t want to do that unless He’s callin’ you somehow.”

“Just a moment, Kid.” Paula’s voice cut quietly through the argument that was beginning. “Perhaps the Lord _is_ calling him, in a way that only he can hear. I don’t believe that was an accident, the way it happened. It could have worked out quite differently, after all. You knocked yourself out so hard Heyes couldn’t find any trace of breath _or_ a pulse.”

_Yeah, I could’ve broken the other ankle_ , Kid thought.

His mouth dry, Heyes looked sharply at his betrothed. He had almost hoped that she would find a way out of the predicament he had pitchforked himself into.

She met his eyes. “Darling, I’m not telling you what to do. This has to be your decision. But if I could make a suggestion?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Wait a while. Think about it. Even pray about it. We’ll do the same, of course. Don’t let yourself be pushed into a corner, even by your own honour. Perhaps there’s something else the Lord wants you to understand, that you might be able to hear more clearly when you’re not busy trying to defend your chosen course of action to us, or to yourself.”

“I thought you’d be pleased!”

“Oh, sweetheart, I _am_ pleased. God is speaking to you and you’re listening. What more could I ask for? He’ll show you what He wants you to do. When you’re certain of that, I won’t argue with you, and I’m sure Kid won’t either.”

Heyes nodded, and touched his heels to the horse’s sides. Ears alert, the chestnut mare moved into an easy trot. He was thinking furiously. If what Paula had said was true, then it wasn’t his own promise that had gotten him into this mess. It was God, arranging things for them as usual, being active in their lives as He had been ever since they had met Miss O’More and Miss Wellington. God had sent those ladies into their lives. No, even earlier, when they’d become acquainted with the Jordan family. And before then, when Sister Julia had said that they’d be in her prayers.

He realized that a lot of the objections he had raised in his conversations with Richard Bancroft, back in January and during the previous July, were no longer important. He did believe, now, that God was a good God as well as an all-powerful one. After the many proofs that he had seen during the previous two years, he was starting to trust God to ‘work things together for good’, like that verse that Richard had quoted to him said.[1] He could even dimly see that the loss of their families—his and Jed’s—when they were children might have been a part of God’s plan to bring good in their lives. 

His fears that Kid would leave him and go off somewhere, maybe become a preacher after he had been baptized, had failed to materialize. He understood, finally, what had happened to his cousin that day. He hadn’t ‘got religion’, as most of the men they knew would be likely to say. Instead, Kid had been changed, from the inside out, and yet he was still the same man—still Heyes’s cousin, partner, and best friend. He was still utterly and completely dependable, no more likely to go missing of his own free will than Heyes would be likely to leave a leg or an arm behind without noticing. Inviting God into his life had made him more dependable, not less.

With an effort, Heyes broke off his introspection, to discover that his partner and his lady, riding one on either side of him as usual, were sitting their saddles quietly, enjoying the scenery as they approached the forbidding stone walls of the canyon, clearly visible ahead of them now in the late afternoon light. Neither was looking at him. No one seemed to be worried. 

Then he looked again. Ahead, where the western sky was still visible above the towering granite cliffs, there should have been blue sky, with the tops of the cliffs lit from behind by the rays of the sinking sun. Instead, the sun touched only the very top of a massive thunderhead, its upper reaches still fleecy white, but its underside blue-black, with lightning flickering around the edges. As was often true in these regions, the rain could even be seen slanting down between the cloud and the rocks, in a long gray curtain that obscured what lay behind. And they were about to ride into a narrow, high-walled canyon, with little room in places between the trail and the edge of the river bed.

*** *** ***

Getting ready to draw the heavy velvet curtains for the night, Paul Wellington stood by the big bay window in the front parlor of the ranch house, looking across the mountain park. He had received the telegraph Heyes had sent from Loveland, saying that they intended to arrive that evening. But now, to the left of the window, toward the head of the Devil’s Gulch trail leading up from the North Fork of the Big Thompson, there was a thunderstorm developing. Incessant flashes of lightning illuminated the whole landscape in the premature darkness caused by the enormous line of thunderheads. 

Suddenly worried about the very real danger of a flash flood in the narrow confines of the lower part of that canyon, Wellington began to pray fervently that his sister and her companions would see the storm in time and decide to wait it out. If they were to enter the canyon—worse, if they had already done so—they would be in considerable danger. There was nothing he could do here, now, except to besiege Heaven with his prayers. _Lord, stop them somehow. Keep them from riding into the Narrows. Oh, God, keep them safe_.

*** *** ***

Heyes drew rein. “We’re not ridin’ into that.” He indicated the clouds. “It’s raining hard up there at the top of the canyon—there’s gonna be some flooding.”

“We can camp in that wide spot at the mouth of the canyon,” Kid said. “The ground rises on the north side of it; you can see that from here. After the crest passes, we should be able to move on, but that might not be till tomorrow morning.”

Paula was the only one of the three who had ridden this route before. “We’ll have to find some shelter, even if it’s just a few trees. It’s a mercy you spotted that thunderhead, Heyes.”

The three made camp in a stand of tall Ponderosa pines on the north side of the canyon entrance, backed by a low wall of rock and earth forming the boundary of a tiny mesa to the north. From the marks of previous flooding on the rocks, and the age and height of the trees, they deduced that the stand of pines would be well above the crest of a flash flood. By stretching the tarpaulins they had with them over larger branches and choosing the eastern sides of the trees, they were able to create a windbreak behind which they and their horses could remain fairly warm and dry when the storm hit. Kid set to work to build a fire against the rock wall, Paula began to prepare supper, and Heyes gathered extra wood to keep dry for later in the evening, when it would be needed.

After they had dined on bacon, hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and fresh hot biscuits, with butter and jam from the jars they carried, they sat and talked until the first heavy drops of rain began to spatter through the pine needles above them. Making sure the horses were well covered with unfolded saddle blankets, they prepared to retire for the night, rolling up as snugly as they could in their blankets and the slickers from their saddles. 

“Think we need to set a watch, Heyes?” Kid glanced up before getting into his bedroll.

“I’d say no, but every time we’ve decided not to, we’ve regretted it. Well, not every time, but I don’t want to take the chance. I’ll take the first one. I’m not sleepy.” Heyes checked his watch by the light of the fire, which they had built up again after supper. “It’s half-past ten. I’ll wake you in two hours.”

Kid nodded, pulled the blankets over his head, and was asleep almost instantly.

Instead of getting into her own blankets, Paula came over to sit beside her betrothed. Heyes looked at her, concerned. “Are you gonna be able to sleep? We had to use your tent to help make a dry shelter—I know you’re not used to sleeping out under the stars.”

“I should be able to, but I’m not sleepy yet, either. You don’t mind if I sit with you for a while?”

“Of course I don’t mind.”

“Or would you rather be alone to think?”

“I’ve been thinking for hours. I could use a break.” His crooked smile peeped out. “Do you really think—you know, what you said earlier, about God calling me—you think that’s what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like that to me, from your description of what happened. Both of you have had experience dealing with somebody who’s been knocked unconscious. You would know how to check for a heartbeat, how to check to see if the man’s breathing. But for some reason, you couldn’t be sure whether Kid was alive or dead. Surely that’s rather unusual.”

Heyes didn’t respond immediately. Finally, without looking at her, he said, “I guess it is. I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“The other matter that struck me as odd was that you panicked—at least, it sounded like that. And I’ve been acquainted with you for a year and a half now. I’ve never known you to panic. Occasionally you’re afraid—as who is not, from time to time? But you don’t panic. Neither does Kid. And yet, you cried out to the Lord for help, which I don’t think you would have done under normal circumstances. Yes, I know you told me that you prayed for help up on the mountainside above Idaho Springs, when Kid broke his leg. But even then, you didn’t panic. Or if you did, you concealed it well, even from yourself.”

“You’re sayin’ you think God set it up so I would panic? ’Cause you’re right—I did.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. But perhaps the Lord allowed things to develop in such a way that you were presented with a choice: you could try, by your own cleverness, to think of a way out of the trouble you were in, or you could cry out for help. And the choice you made—Heyes, it’s not like you. Is it?”

_She’s right there_ , he thought. _When we’re in trouble and I_ do _pray for help, it’s only after I’ve thought it out, considered all the angles, and decided that prayer would be a good thing to do—a nice supplement to what I’ve already planned, kind of an insurance policy to get the Lord on our side. This was different_. He refrained from verbal explanation and simply shook his head.

She touched his hand, making no further comment. They sat together in silence, enjoying one another’s company. The moon, directly overhead now, was almost bright enough to read by.

Finally, Heyes kissed her gently. “You’d better try to get some sleep.”

“Good night, my dearest.” She rose obediently and went to her bedroll, leaving him sitting alone in the moonlight.

After two more hours, alone in the great silence, the unearthly beauty around him lit dramatically by the full moon, Hannibal Heyes had come to certain conclusions. He couldn’t keep on going the way he had been doing since the previous summer. The strain on Kid, and even on Paula, as they watched him wrestle with the implications of God’s determined pursuit—the posse God had sent after him, as Richard Bancroft had put it so whimsically when they had discussed this in January—had been painful for him to watch. They were both worried about him—Kid more so, Heyes thought. His partner seemed almost afraid that something dreadful was going to happen if Heyes kept up his stubborn resistance. Curry had never spoken of it, and Heyes hadn’t cared to ask, but the uneasiness was there. And sometimes, when she thought he wasn’t looking at her, he had surprised almost a haunted look on Paula’s face, and tears which she had tried to conceal. 

Suddenly angry with himself, he realized he had to do _something_ so his cousin and his lady could be at peace, no matter what it cost him. And that meant giving his life to God. He had known that for some time. Now, after the promise he had made to God in Kid’s hearing, even though he hadn’t spoken all of it aloud, he knew the time had come to stop running. Whatever God intended to do with him, it could not be as terrible as what he himself was doing to the two people he loved. In the shadows under the trees, he fancied he could dimly perceive the horses and riders of God’s posse, waiting silently for him to make a move. To surrender.

Heyes stole a glance at his watch. A little after one in the morning. He rose quickly and went over to where his partner lay. “Kid?” He touched the sleeping form with his toe.

Curry was awake in a flash, hand reaching for the gun he kept down by his leg under the blankets. He saw Heyes bending over him, relaxed, and noted the position of the moon. “Time for me to take the watch?”

“Yeah, but there’s somethin’ else. Come with me—” Heyes broke off, hearing a roaring sound to the west of them, from up the canyon. “Here it comes.”

The Big Thompson River in flood through the Narrows

Kid got up and went with him to the edge of the stand of pines. A few moments later, Paula joined them. They watched as a turbulent, foaming crest of water spouted from the mouth of the canyon. Breaking free of the confinement of the rock walls, the water spread out in all directions, the crest collapsing into a little wave not more than a foot high. Almost as soon as it had come, it was over. The pool of water receded and went hurrying down toward the town of Loveland, its force much reduced. They stood by the trees, watching until everything had returned to normal. The Big Thompson River resumed its usual quiet flow.

Turning to his partner, Kid asked, “You said there was something else, Heyes. What is it?”

“I want to be baptized, Jed. Will you do it? Right now?”

“Right _now_?” Kid looked over at the still rushing river, shallow enough now to be perfectly safe, but fed with snow melt from the mountains high above. And it was just after a flash flood that could have proven deadly to them if Heyes hadn’t seen the storm coming. He pulled himself together, his face lit with a joyful smile. “Sure I will!” 

Together, the two men walked down to the river bank. Paula put more wood on the fire, scooped up a double armful of blankets, and followed as quickly as she could. She laid the blankets on the ground beside the men’s hats, gun belts, and boots, and watched as Kid Curry led the way.

“All I know to do is what Revd. Austin and Richard did with me.” Stepping carefully into the water, Kid tried to ignore the chill. It was so cold that he knew he’d have to do the thing quickly, before he ceased to be able to feel the river bottom under his feet. When he had found the deepest spot he could, he turned to face his cousin, remembering to pull off his kerchief to cover the other man’s nose and mouth. “Upon your profession of faith …” He paused and looked his partner in the eye, waiting. _Come on, Heyes. You gotta_ say _it._

Heyes swallowed hard, nodded, and said, in a low voice, “Yeah. I believe.”

Kid took a deep breath and went on. “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.” Flinging his arm around Heyes’s shoulders, Kid lowered him into the water and then heaved him up as quickly as he could, helped by Heyes’s firm grip on his forearm. 

Both men scrambled to the bank, where Paula flung a dry blanket over each of them and led the way back to the fire. Before he could stop her, she cast herself into Heyes’s arms, weeping, and getting the front of her habit wet as it pressed against his clothing. 

“Dear heart,” scolded Heyes gently, “You’re going to get a chill. You’re almost as wet as I am.”

“I don’t think that’s possible—you’re soaked from head to foot,” she returned. “That was the idea, after all. Baptism is dying and rising again with Christ, so if it’s possible, being totally submerged in the water is the right way to do it. But now—if you’ve an extra set of long handles in the pack on the mule, I’d suggest changing clothes. I shall build up the fire, make a fresh pot of coffee, and see if I can heat up some beef broth using that dried meat we stowed in the saddlebags this morning. Whilst I’m occupied with that, you should change.”

Heyes couldn’t help laughing. That was the very last thing he had expected—that Miss Paula Wellington, who was very properly behaved, should casually suggest his stripping himself of his wet clothes while she prepared a late supper—or an early breakfast—within a few feet of him. He watched her extract what she needed from the pack and determinedly turn her back; then he obediently got a dry set of long underwear, a pair of trousers, and a shirt from his valise. Working quickly, he changed clothes, towelling himself dry with a blanket. Kid removed his wet socks and pulled on a woollen pair knitted for him by Lillian, taking the opportunity to change his long johns and trousers as well.

Once he was decent again, Heyes came up behind Paula and put an arm around her waist. “That coffee smells awfully good.” 

She poured him a cup, and filled another for Kid. With the beef broth and left-over biscuits, they settled down to enjoy the impromptu meal.

Getting out her Bible, Paula opened it to a page in the centre between the Old Testament and the New. “Kid, could I borrow your writing kit?” 

“Sure.” He got it from his saddlebags. “I’ve got to write to Lillian anyway—in fact, I’d better write her, and Richard, or send telegraphs, from Estes Park.” He passed over the pen and the stoppered bottle of ink. “Whatcha writin’?”

“I’m just making a record of the baptism. If you’ll trust me to keep my Bible out of unauthorized hands, I’d like you to sign it where it says ‘by’. I’ve signed as a witness.” She returned the pen and ink to him and spread the open Bible out on the tree trunk they were using as a table.

Together, Heyes and Kid bent their heads over the page, and Kid solemnly filled his name in at the proper place.

Kid looked up, awed. “Like I was a minister or something?”

“Any Christian may baptize another,” replied Paula. “You did the right thing.” Once again, she was obliged to dry her tears. 

Quietly, Heyes took the handkerchief from her hand and performed the task for her. “Are you all right, darling?”

“Oh, yes! I’m just so happy!”

The two men exchanged glances, not quite sure why, in that case, she was crying, but women were known to behave oddly.

Heyes looked up. “The moon’s full, still almost right overhead. Would you like to push on? I don’t know about you, but I can’t sleep. Besides, I wired Wellington yesterday to say we’d be coming in last night, and now he’s probably worried.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose he would be,” mused Paula. “But I know one thing—he’ll have been praying for us, ever since he saw the thunderheads. Oh, Heyes, do you suppose…?”

“Suppose what?”

“Perhaps the Lord sent the storm, just so we’d stop here. It’s the last place with any water deep enough to baptize you for quite a few miles. The Big Thompson where it runs past the Estes Park post office is so shallow it barely covers one’s shoes. Our little church group that meets in the room over the general store hasn’t baptized anyone in all the years we’ve lived here, though I suppose if they needed to, they could use one of the horse troughs.”

Nearly full moon over the Big Thompson Narrows

Chuckling again, Heyes agreed that might be true. There was a strange feeling inside him, like a fountain. He couldn’t stop laughing at silly little things. The landscape around them seemed brighter. Suddenly he wondered if it was because of the full moon, or for some other reason that only he could see. He glanced quickly at his cousin, who was placidly saddling his horse, undisturbed by Heyes’s plan to ride on by moonlight.

*** *** ***

Just before 7:00 a.m., Paul saddled up and rode out to the eastern boundary of the ranch. He had let the others know at the breakfast table that he intended to ride down Devil’s Gulch to see if he could find traces of the party coming up from Loveland—to meet them, if they were on their way up the canyon. Otherwise, he would ride on to Loveland, if it was possible to get through, and wire back news from there. Dougal Ramsay announced his intention of coming along and Paul agreed, glad of the company. He knew in his heart that no serious harm had befallen his twin sister—he would have known if she were hurt or dead—but they might still need assistance, or the trail might be washed out. 

As Wellington and Ramsay came in sight of the trail from Devil’s Gulch, they saw the other party silhouetted against the sun, a bright orange-golden ball just above the horizon on the plains of eastern Colorado behind them. With a sigh of relief, Paul counted—three riders, three horses, and Prudence’s unmistakable long ears. The mule was in the lead, walking quietly along without a lead rope attached to her halter, which told him that they had used her superior trail sense to detect possible sections of unsafe footing. The Englishman gave a shout and waved his hat above his head. The approaching riders broke into a canter, and the two parties met, surrounded by a patch of bright sunlight, the smell of mountain sage all around them as their mounts’ hooves crushed the new growth.

Paul gave his sister a quick hug as her horse ranged alongside his, then shook hands with the two outlaws. Heyes and Curry shook hands with Dougal next, while Paul stared in some astonishment at the former outlaw leader. “Heyes, what _happened_ to you? I thought you might be caught in a flash flood, and I’m glad to see that you weren’t, but that doesn’t account for …”

“I saw the storm up above us, so we stopped for the night at the mouth of the canyon,” replied Heyes. 

“No, I mean what happened to you, yourself? Something has.” Paul looked from Heyes to his sister, who was smiling. “The two of you didn’t think up any surprises, did you?”

“No, certainly not!” Paula exclaimed. “There was definitely a surprise, but it had nothing to do with me.”

“God’s been chasin’ me for months,” Heyes said, after a long pause. “I finally let Him catch me. And I asked Kid to baptize me in the river—after the flood was over, that is.”

“I say, that’s splendid!” Paul pressed his horse closer. Gripping his future brother-in-law’s hand again, he wrung it enthusiastically. “Congratulations, Heyes! Now you truly are part of the family—our family, and the family of God.”

“It was about one o’clock in the morning, perhaps a little after. I made a record of it in my Bible, but I didn’t put the time down,” Paula concurred.

Heyes nodded. Aware that he was no longer in control of his destiny, if, indeed, that had ever been the case, nor even in control of his emotions at the present moment, he chose to say nothing further until he had managed to impose some order on his thoughts. His mind was still full of a strange, wild feeling of joy and wonder mixed with apprehension, making coherent thought next to impossible.

Noting the uncharacteristic silence, Wellington scanned Heyes’s face. What he saw reassured him that all was well. Heyes appeared bemused, a slight, bewildered smile on his face conveying volumes about what he must be feeling. _After all, this is an entirely new state of affairs for him. It is natural for him to feel a trifle confused_ , thought Paul. _And I’ll wager he’s had very little sleep. Any more discussion had best wait until we get home._

The riders turned and began to ride back to the ranch house. Dougal spoke up. “Kid? You’ll be wanting to send a telegraph to your friends in Telluride, will you not? I’d be glad to ride to the post office for you. You’ll be wanting your breakfast, I’m thinking. And my mother will want to hear the good news.”

“That’s real kind of you to offer, Doug,” said Kid, amused in spite of himself at the nineteen-year-old Scottish-born ranch hand calling him ‘Kid’. “I’ve written out two telegraphs that have to go. Here.” He handed over two sheets of paper and a five-dollar coin. “I think that’ll cover both of them. If you wouldn’t mind waitin’ for the answers …”

“Aye, I’ll wait.” The young man took the messages and urged his horse into a canter, making his way down the road into the lower part of the Park where the little town was just visible in the early sunlight.

“Ellen and the others will be glad to know you’re all safe,” said Paul. “We prayed for you last night, when we saw the storm clouds. We just didn’t understand everything we were praying about.” He led the way under the wooden arch along the short approach road to the house. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, doesn’t He?”

Heyes and Kid exchanged glances. “What do you mean by that?” asked Heyes.

“Oh, well, perhaps nothing in particular. But it occurred to me that the Lord could have sent that storm to halt you at the foot of the canyon, so that you’d have opportunity to think about what you wanted to do. Or perhaps that was the best place to be baptized, though the water’s cold this time of year. I don’t know what caused you to make that decision right at that particular time. It seemed to me to fit together, that’s all.”

*** *** ***

“Here they come.” Roy Lennox, looking out from the bay window in the parlor, saw the group of riders approaching. “Miss Wellington, Heyes, Curry—they’re all there, and safe.” He put his arm around Ellen as she came to join him at the window, giving her waist a squeeze.

“Let go of me, _mo_[ _rùn_](https://www.faclair.com/ViewDictionaryEntry.aspx?ID=5A4BABA1ED2D1B82947132CDBBA6174A) _-sa **[2]**_. They’ll be hungry and tired, and wanting a hot breakfast, I shouldn’t wonder. I’ll need to be starting with the cooking.”

Chuckling, Roy accompanied her back to the kitchen, his arm still around her waist. “Jim, could you see to their horses? I see Doug isn’t with them. I’ll be out to help you in a minute.”

“You’ll go now,” said Ellen firmly. “I’ll not have you in here under my feet. I’ll make enough biscuits for both of ye to have second helpings. Go on with ye.” She shooed her betrothed determinedly through the doorway.

Jamie Ramsay was already stretching out his hand to Prudence’s halter. The mule shied away from him, disgusted at the implication that she didn’t know where to stand to be unsaddled, and went to the hitch rail in front of the tack room door.

“Welcome, Miss Paula, Heyes, Kid. Jim and I’ll see to your horses. You go on in—Ellen’s makin’ sourdough biscuits.” Lennox began loosening the fastenings on the mule’s pack. He could see that something unusual had happened. The former outlaw leader looked quite different than he had the previous year, the last time they’d been at the ranch. They both looked happier, but there was something else about Heyes. Roy knew he’d hear about it in good time. Best to let the hungry travellers eat first.

“Thanks, Roy.” Kid swung down and handed his reins to the Ramsay boy. “That sounds mighty fine. Her sourdough biscuits are ’most as good as Lillian’s. She’s gonna let you two have some, isn’t she?”

“We’ve eaten,” said Jamie. “But she said she’d make extra.”

*** *** ***

After breakfast, just as everybody was settling down in the back parlor with second cups of coffee or tea, Dougal came through from the kitchen. He walked straight up to Heyes and handed him a yellow envelope. A second one was handed to Kid. The two men quickly opened and read the telegraph messages: Heyes’s from Richard Bancroft, Kid’s from Lillian O’More.

Heyes chuckled. “This concerns everybody, but I suppose I’d better tell you what it’s all about first. Right now, only Paul and Doug know.”

“We were waiting for the right time to ask you,” said Ellen. “We can all see that something has happened to you—something good. At least, I can see it.” The others nodded.

Flushing, Heyes repeated what he’d said out on the trail. “That was around one in the morning,” he finished. “I couldn’t sleep after that, even when I sort of got warmed up, so we just decided to ride on in. The trail was a little slippery in places until we got to the North Fork turn-off, but we could see just fine, because the moon was so bright.” 

He rose hastily as Ellen sprang to her feet and came over to him, flinging her arms around his neck. Hesitantly, he patted her shoulder, looking over it at his partner, who was laughing at him. Roy and Jamie waited to shake his hand until Ellen had finished hugging him. 

She was crying. “Och, Mr. Heyes, I’ve been praying for you so long! God be thanked!”

_Another one_ , he thought, startled. _How many determined women does that make, praying for me_? “How long, Mrs. Ramsay?”

“Why, since the summer of 1878, for certain,” she replied, as if this should have been obvious.

“But you didn’t—that is, Paula didn’t even know me then,” Heyes protested. 

“She knew your name. She told me, and I began to pray, right then. And now God has answered. _Tha e ’na bheannachd mhòr_ —it’s a great blessing,” she added to Paula, who nodded, her tears beginning to fall once more.

The men were shaking hands with Curry. “We heard you’d done the same, last summer,” said Roy. “I know it’s not quite so recent, but we haven’t seen you since, to congratulate you.”

“Thanks. It was a little different for me. Long story. Heyes, hadn’t you better tell us what Richard said in that telegraph?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. It’s kind of funny, though he probably didn’t mean it like that.” Heyes slipped the telegraph form free of the envelope, spread it out, and read aloud: 

> TO JOSHUA SMITH C BAR W RANCH ESTES PARK COLORADO
> 
> MAY 2D 1882
> 
> WONDERFUL NEWS STOP CONGRATULATIONS WELCOME BROTHER STOP WHAT ARE THE THREE OF YOU DOING IN ESTES PARK WHEN YOU SHOULD BE IN JUNCTION CITY STOP
> 
> YOURS IN CHRIST R BANCROFT COUNSELLOR AT LAW
> 
> TELLURIDE COLORADO

Curry began to laugh. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I suppose we don’t have no excuse now. We’d better plan to head out for New Mexico.” He looked over at Wellington. “Richard gave us a letter to deliver to Judge Hanley and Counsellor Brubaker in Junction City, and he wanted Paula to make the actual delivery, in case it wasn’t safe for us to just ride into town and ask to see them. Thought a judge and a lawyer would react better to her. So she’ll have to come with us.”

“I understand.” Wellington nodded. “But you can stay until Monday at the least, can you not? You need to take a break from all this riding you’ve been doing, check your tack, get your clothes mended, stock up on supplies, that sort of thing.”

“Monday sounds good,” agreed Heyes. “We’ll plan to leave here on the eighth, then.”

“I thought,” Paul explained, “that the church group we worship with would like to congratulate you both. And they’d like to see your ring, Paula,” he reminded his sister. He kept to himself the other thoughts that came to his mind: that he would be unable to go to St. John’s Episcopal Church in Boulder this weekend, as he had been instructed to do by Bishop Spalding after their talk in Denver at Easter. He would have to wire the rector, Graham Cliff, and explain that he would be unable to make it this Sunday.

Giving him a brilliant smile, his sister nodded in agreement. Paul wanted to show all their friends that his sister was engaged to be married, and that her betrothed and his partner had made professions of faith in Christ and had been baptized, since everyone had last seen them in the spring of 1881. Her eyes rested speculatively upon her beloved’s face. She wondered how he would take the news that he had to face a public ordeal of sorts. But it had to be done—he would understand that. He had courage enough for anything. She knew, dimly, what it had cost him to make that decision, though he still hadn’t spoken of it a great deal.

After they had eaten, the newly arrived travellers, by common consent, decided to spend at least part of the day resting from their overnight ride. In the bedroom allotted to him, in the east wing as it had been at the time of their first visit, Heyes went over to the mirror behind the wash-stand and stared into it thoughtfully. “Kid?”

“Yeah?” His partner strolled in through the connecting door.

“Do I look different? They all seem to think something’s changed, even before I said anything.”

Curry didn’t answer immediately. Finally, he came in and flung himself down in the armchair. “Well, now, I was gonna say no, but there _is_ a change.” Heyes looked at him sharply. “The strain is gone. Even though you’re tired—heck, I think we’re all pretty tired. But you’ve kinda been under a strain for months, haven’t you? I don’t see that any more. And I’m glad. I was worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” Heyes tried to laugh this off. “Why? You know that between my figuring and your fast draw, we’ve always made out all right.”

“Yeah, but this time I couldn’t protect you. And you couldn’t figure a way out.”

“I was bein’ chased by a posse, Kid. Last night—well, early this morning—I _saw_ them. God’s posse. Waiting for me, under the trees where we stopped for the night.”

Kid whistled softly.

“Oh, I know they weren’t really there. Nothing anyone could see, that is.” The rationalist in Heyes hastened to point this out. “I talked to Richard about that in January, told him I felt like there was a posse after me.

“He said there were some differences between a regular unfriendly sheriff’s posse and God. Where the sheriff’s posse would chase us, corner us, point guns at us, tie us up, put us in jail, and send us off to Wyoming, God would just follow, he said. And wait. He’d keep His distance, Richard said, but He’d be there, waiting, whenever I stopped to rest. And whenever I looked back, He was.” He poured hot water into the basin and lathered his face. “Then you got hurt, and I thought you might be dead, and I made that bet. Well, not really a bet, but it’s still something I had to follow through, ’cause I meant what I said.”

“That’s not a good reason…,” Kid protested.

“All right, so it’s not.” Heyes passed the razor over the right side of his jaw and wiped the blade, then began working around the edges of his carefully sculpted side whiskers. “But that wasn’t the only reason. I can’t make you understand. I just knew that now was the time. I had to do it. I guess the rest is up to God—whatever He does with me now.”

“But you’re not worried about that.” That was one of the differences Kid hadn’t been able to put his finger on. Now he knew. “You’ve surrendered. Haven’t you? You didn’t just decide to believe.”

Wiping the blade of the razor again, then going around the other side of his jaw, Heyes didn’t answer at once. Kid waited patiently for the shaving operation to come to an end. “Yeah. I surrendered. And I’m not worried about what’s gonna happen next. I can’t figure that out, but I guess it’s O.K. Maybe once I get some sleep, I’ll be able to think a little clearer.” He washed the remaining lather from his face and dried his face and hands. “That feels good. Sleep would be better yet.”

“Yeah. Think I’ll do the same.” Curry got up and went through into his own bedroom. Soon the sound of water being poured was heard.

Heyes sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. Suddenly he was so tired that he didn’t even bother to remove his clothes. He pulled the quilt over himself and was asleep in a few moments. 

**Monday, May 8th**

Boosting his lady into her saddle, Hannibal Heyes swung up on his chestnut mare and prepared to lead his party on the next stage of their travels. They had checked and mended every item of gear, and in addition were carrying lavish travel provisions baked and carefully packed for them by Ellen Ramsay. Paula had packed a few fresh items of clothing and a different hat, and had furbished up the skirt of her riding habit as best she could, not having the time to make or bespeak a fresh riding dress.

Waving to Wellington, the Ramsays, and Lennox, the party rode out of the ranch yard and turned into the lane leading toward the town of Estes Park. Heyes planned to take the South St. Vrain road this time, thinking it wise to be familiar with all of the major roads and trails out of the Park in case of necessity. It would get them to Lyons in about four hours. From there they would ride to Boulder, where they could take a train to Denver and points south. 

* * *

[1] Romans 8:28, Authorized Version.

[2] My beloved.


	3. Heyes Is Betrothed to Two Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Splitting up while being pursued by a determined posse, Heyes and Curry agree to meet in the town of Ashford, in south-eastern Colorado. Upon arriving, Heyes is dismayed to find no trace of his partner, but plenty of evidence to indicate that he had been in the town. He concocts an outrageous scheme to locate his missing cousin, hoping that when Miss Wellington arrives, she will understand what he had to do--and knowing she won't.

**Southern Colorado, Monday, May 15th, 1882**

The party paused to breathe their horses. From the rocky plateau where they had halted, they could look down and see the posse determinedly riding along the road in the distance where they had been thirty minutes before. At present the posse had lost their trail, but it probably would not take them long to find it. 

Heyes made a quick decision. “We’re gonna have to split up. Kid, you take off that way, and Paula, you go that way over there. Paula, you’ll take Prudence with you. I’ll take the third trail.” He indicated the chosen routes with his hand. 

“Where’ll we meet?” asked Curry.

“Let’s try Ashford. I don’t anticipate too much trouble losing these boys, but it might be three or four days before we can all get back together. Everything clear?”

Paula nodded soberly. Kid said quietly, “Best of luck, Heyes, and I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thanks. We’ll all be praying.” Heyes leaned from the saddle to give his fiancée a quick hug and kiss, then reined his horse sharply to the left, while Kid’s horse began to pick his way down a steep trail littered with rocks. Paula waited for a few moments to allow them to get clear, then guided her mare into the trail that Heyes had indicated. She suddenly recalled that Heyes hadn’t asked if everybody had enough money, and it hadn’t occurred to her to mention the matter. As usual, she had most of the trio’s emergency funds with her. How much money the outlaws were carrying on their persons, she had no notion.

An hour later, Paula joined a fairly good road, with no sign yet of any pursuit. She quickened her pace to a gallop, thinking that if the posse following was looking for two men running away, they might just follow her tracks, because she had the mule with her, and it would look like the tracks of two horses carrying riders if no one examined the hoof prints too closely. Praying for the safety of the boys as she rode, but bearing in mind that Heyes had anticipated no particular trouble with this posse once their party had split up, she settled down to give them a good chase and enjoy herself as much as she might under the circumstances.

Toward evening, she found herself under arrest in the small town of Catlin[1], not charged with anything, but being held with perfect courtesy in the local jail while the marshal and his deputies tried to decide what to do. 

The marshal had intended to bring a charge of aiding and abetting in the escape of a wanted fugitive, but when he mentioned the names of Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry to the lady he had caught, she had favored him with such a blank stare that he decided to consult with the town’s one attorney before proceeding any further. His prisoner, complicating matters, had requested to speak with an attorney as well, displaying a well-filled pocketbook to demonstrate her ability to pay for his services. Marshal Proctor saw to it that she was provided with a good supper, and went to see the lawyer, leaving two of his deputies in charge.

A short time later he was back. Apologetically, he went to the cell where his prisoner sat quietly knitting. “Miss Wellington? I’m real sorry to have to say this, but Mr. Matthews, the lawyer, has gone home for the night. He lives quite a ways out of town, so talking to him is going to have to wait till the morning. I’ve left word for him to come to the jail as soon as he can. In view of the gravity of the charge—if we can use that charge of aiding and abetting—I’m going to have to keep you here for the night. I’ll see to it you’re as comfortable as we can arrange it, and if there’s been a mistake, ma’am, I’ll be the first to apologize to you. Is there anything I can get for you?”

Paula had her own reasons for not suggesting that anyone should look into the pack that Prudence carried. If the pack was searched, she would have to modify the story she intended to tell, but she hoped they would not search. They had already brought the saddlebags from her own horse, so she had her knitting, her small travel Bible, and a few small toiletry items. The larger Bible, with Heyes’s baptismal record in it, she had taken the precaution of leaving in the safe at the C Bar W. “Thank you, Marshal. If you could just bring that lamp over a little closer, so that I can have some more light on my work, that would suit. I shall ask the deputy to put it out when I am ready to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He did what she asked, and turned to one of the deputies. “Harve, do you suppose your wife would mind coming to spend the night with you here? It would be more proper, with a woman prisoner.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind, Marshal, once she knows the circumstances.”

“Right. You go home and see to that, and get some supper. When you get back, Walt here and I will leave for the night. I’ll come by later in the evening and check on you, make sure everything’s all right here.”

Miss Wellington watched these proceedings with interest. They had made no attempt to search her for a weapon, though they had taken a perfunctory look in the saddlebags. She wondered if she ought to embarrass the marshal by suggesting a search, once the deputy’s wife arrived, and decided against it. If they did search, they would find her Frontier model Colt, her .32 derringer, and the short-bladed knife she kept in a sheath tucked behind the busk of her corset, which would probably lead to questions as to why she felt it necessary to go so heavily armed. In the event, she was glad she had not spoken, since no search was suggested or undertaken.

In the morning, Counsellor Matthews arrived while the prisoner was still eating her breakfast, apologizing for having been unavailable the previous evening. He looked anxiously from Miss Wellington to Marshal Proctor, frowning. “I shall be delighted to represent you, Miss Wellington, if there is a need, but from the note that was left for me, I believe it’s possible that you won’t need an attorney. I’m not sure that they have grounds to hold you on the charge that was mentioned. I’d like to ask you some questions.” He looked at the marshal. “If you’ll let me in, Vern, I’ll talk to her right here and now.”

After a consultation, Matthews asked to be let out of the cell, and went into the outer office to talk to the marshal. “Vern, you’ve got a real problem here. Have your deputies caught either of the two men who were thought to be travelling with this lady?”

“No. The other two riders disappeared without trace. We followed the tracks of the two horses together, see, because we knew we were chasing Heyes and Curry. By the time we caught her and realized her two weren’t the horses we’d been chasing, it was impossible to pick up their trail. Four of my men did try—they went back to where we’d lost touch with the riders and tried to track them, but no luck. I guess we lost ’em.”

“Are you absolutely certain they were Heyes and Curry—the men you were originally chasing?”

“Well, one of my deputies thought he recognized them. He used to live up in Wyoming, and he had seen them once, when they robbed a bank with their gang. He came and told me and I got a posse together and went after them. I’ve never seen those boys myself.”

“That’s the first problem. You have no proof, then, that it was Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry that you were pursuing. The next question is, did you actually ever see this lady, Miss Wellington, in company with these alleged outlaws?”

“Well, we saw the group of four horses and riders at a distance, not close enough to see faces. I couldn’t swear to it, no. Why? Does she say she wasn’t with them?”

“She says she was with two men who told her their names were Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. She was with them for part of the day, as they had offered to escort her through this section of country, and then they parted company, long before your posse caught up with her. You see what all this means, don’t you? You can’t prove that the men you were chasing were Heyes and Curry. You haven’t caught them. And even if you had caught them, you still would have to prove that she knew who they were, before you could charge her with aiding and abetting and hope to make it stick. At the moment there’s no evidence to support that at all.”

“But those names—they sound like aliases.”

“Very probably, but if she’s innocent, she’d have no reason to think that. It’s only a lawman, or an attorney, who might think the names were suspicious. And there’s another thing. I asked her if she had any references who could vouch for her, and she gave me the name of a captain of Texas Rangers, down in Texas.” The lawyer looked at his notes. “Captain Edward Parmalee, Company B, Texas Rangers, Laredo. Now, Vern, I could wire the Ranger post in Laredo, without even giving the captain’s name, to verify this, but the very fact she’s willing to give me the name and location … you see? I don’t think you can hold her. There are too many holes in the case you want to bring against her. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll apologize to the lady and let her go. I’m sure she’d like to be on her way, even though you did provide her with an opportunity to get some of her knitting done and gave her two free meals.”

Reluctantly, Marshal Proctor nodded. “All right, Mr. Matthews. I’ll see to it. Thanks for coming in so early.”

“My pleasure. All in a day’s work, though I don’t often get such interesting cases.” He followed the marshal to the cell block and watched while Miss Wellington was released, with apologies. 

She nodded to the lawyer as she emerged from the cell, swinging her saddlebags over one shoulder and straightening her hat. “I’m very much obliged to you, Counsellor. Please tell me what I owe you for your trouble.”

“Why, nothing, ma’am. I didn’t really do anything. They didn’t have a case that would stand up in court.” Surprised, he accepted the twenty-dollar gold piece she held out to him. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll see it’s put to good use.”

**Ashford, Colorado, Wednesday, May 17th[2]**

Heyes rode into the town of Ashford, signed into the hotel, and examined the register for the previous day and a half. He saw that Thaddeus Jones had been given room 24. This was encouraging news. There was no sign of Paula Wellington’s arrival yet. This was the only hotel in town, so she would come here. Heyes didn’t really expect that anything had happened to her, but the delay worried him a little.

Then he noticed something else. The key for room 24 was in its pigeonhole, but there was no indication in the register that Kid had signed out. Acting on a hunch, he asked the clerk if room 24 was available. The clerk gave him an odd look, difficult to interpret, and after a moment’s hesitation said that he supposed it was, since Mr. Jones, who had taken the room the previous day, had left town. He was perfectly willing to rent the room to Heyes in return for payment in advance.

“I’m not sure how many days I’ll need the room,” said Heyes casually, “but here’s enough for three days. If I want it longer, I’ll let you know.” He smiled cheerfully at the clerk, trying to counteract the man’s apparent bad temper.

Carrying his saddlebags, rifle, and small valise up to the room, Heyes let himself in and made another discovery. The covers on the bed had been turned back, there was the imprint of a body on top of them, and Kid’s saddlebags and valise were in the wardrobe, with his shaving tackle spread out on the top of the wash-stand. The rifle he carried on his saddle was in its scabbard, leaning up against the inside wall of the wardrobe.

Heyes touched the shaving brush. Dry. Now he was really beginning to worry. He returned to the desk and asked for hot water to be sent up. When it was brought, he asked the boy who handed him the pitcher if he had brought hot water to Mr. Jones the previous day. The boy readily admitted that he had. Mr. Jones had asked for enough water to bathe in the hand basin, and to shave. The boy had noticed that he had changed clothes, from the travel-stained ones he was wearing to a white shirt and a clean pair of jeans. No, Mr. Jones had said nothing about leaving; in fact, he had given every indication of intending to go to bed early.

After shaving and taking a quick spit bath, Heyes went to the livery stable. He hadn’t seen Kid’s horse when he had left his own there to be cared for; now he started asking questions of the stable man. The old-timer remembered the big black bay gelding perfectly.[3] He had spent most of the day in his stall. In the early evening, Jones had come from the hotel, saddled up, and asked directions to the school house. He had also wanted to know if the school-mistress had living quarters near or in the same building. Upon being told that she did, he had mounted and ridden out, following the directions he’d been given. The stable man hadn’t seen horse or rider since.

Heyes’s next visit was to the saloon, where, much to his surprise, he encountered Doc Holliday, whom he had last seen during a hotly contested poker game in Tombstone, Arizona, the previous October. Holliday welcomed him, explaining that Tombstone had become very inhospitable to him and his friend Wyatt Earp after the shoot-out with the Clantons on the 26th of the same month, and he had been obliged to go elsewhere, at least temporarily. He added that he had seen and spoken to Thaddeus Jones only the previous morning. Casual questions elicited the information that Jones was suspected of having robbed the bank sometime during the night, taking the money and the bank manager’s step-son with him when he left town, and holding the latter, a man named Willard Riley, for ransom. The only evidence to back this preposterous story appeared to be that Jones’s hat had been found in the alley behind the bank, Jones’s horse was missing, and a ransom note had been received. 

When Holliday added the seemingly irrelevant information that Jones had been charged with vagrancy and sentenced to five days in jail or a fine of ten dollars, upon which the school-mistress had paid his fine, Heyes knew that whatever had happened, the unknown school-mistress was in the thick of it. This was the second time she had been mentioned in connection with his missing partner. His next move must be to make her acquaintance in a way that would encourage her to think well of him, so she’d be willing to accept friendly overtures. 

He wished Paula were here. When it came to dealing with a duplicitous woman, she had already demonstrated that she was quite capable of being ruthless, and much less likely to be swayed by the employment of any feminine wiles. He still remembered, with awed respect, how she had handled Clementine Hale, when he and Kid had been at their wits’ end what to do. But she wasn’t here. It was up to him. His partner was missing, possibly hurt. Heyes suspected that he had been kidnapped to further some scheme involving the bank robbery. He had to find where Kid was being held before the robbers decided to cut their losses and kill him.

Less than an hour later, when the news came that a local farmer, whose son was a pupil at the school, had been injured in an accident, Heyes saw his opportunity. He went to the school and offered to take the boy home. The school-mistress, Miss Amy Martin, a fragile-looking young Boston woman with blue eyes and ethereal blonde ringlets, readily gave permission, nodding to the dark-haired stranger with approval. So far, so good.

At the farm house, Heyes fell into conversation with Mrs. Schwedes. He had noticed the prevalence of volumes of poetry on a book shelf in the parlor, unusual for such a family, and asked about it. When she told him that she wrote poetry herself, but was rather embarrassed about the practice and had therefore kept it a secret from everyone except her husband, he suddenly saw the whole scheme in his mind, complete from start to finish. It involved considerable deception, but if it worked, it would lead him to his partner and probably the proceeds from the bank robbery as well. Instantly, he asked if he could borrow his hostess’s poems, promising to take the greatest care of the hand-written volume and to bring it back the following day. With the precious book tucked safely in his saddlebag, he rode back to town and ensconced himself in his hotel room, locking the door.

After supper at the café, Heyes rode out to the school house and enlisted Miss Martin’s help. She saw no reason to doubt his story—that he had composed some poetry which he wished to send back east to his mother, but that he had never learned to write and hoped she would help him by writing out the poems at his dictation. She invited him to come to the school house the following evening, when she would be free to assist him. Worried for Kid, he still didn’t dare push things any faster. This little lady had to be handled gently, if the confidence game was to work. He prayed for Kid’s welfare as best he could without Paula there to help him, but stopped short of asking God’s blessing on the confidence scheme. It was the only course of action he could think of that had a chance of working, but it didn’t seem right, somehow, to ask God to bless it.

At about half past seven, when he was hard at work copying out the poems he had chosen to memorize and pass off to Miss Martin as his own, he heard a series of taps on the door, arranged in groups of three. Laying aside his pen, carefully capping the bottle of ink, and laying the volume of poetry aside in a safe place, he sprang to his feet and went to the door. “Paula?”

Her familiar voice answered him, and he opened the door carefully, just a few feet, and beckoned her to come in.

She slipped in hastily and cast a quick glance around the room. “Kid’s not here? I saw his name in the register, and then yours, which ought to have meant that you were sharing the room, but there’s been trouble, hasn’t there?” Her eyes went to his, concerned.

Not sorry to take a break from the poetry, Heyes gave her a kiss, motioned her to the armchair while he took the smaller chair at the writing desk, and explained as quickly as he could. “When I found out she’d never told anybody about her poetry—and it’s really good,” he finished, tapping the book, “well, I got this brilliant idea all at once, how I could use it to find the Kid.” He stopped suddenly, seeing pitfalls ahead.

After waiting for a moment, Paula said. “Go ahead and tell me. You know I always want to hear about your ideas.”

“Yeah. It’s just occurred to me that you probably won’t like it. But I couldn’t think of anything else, and it’s almost perfect.”

“Go ahead and tell me, then. Something’s got to be done, and quickly. We don’t even know if Kid’s still alive.”

“I think I’d know if he was dead. Kind of like how it is between you and your brother.” Heyes hesitated. “All right, I’ll tell you. Somehow I have to make Miss Martin willing to tell Riley that she doesn’t want to be part of this scheme any longer. I told you I believe the two of them planned the bank robbery and took the Kid prisoner to cover it up. It sure wouldn’t be the other way around.” He got up and took a quick turn around the room, then came back and sat down on the edge of one of the beds. “I figure she’s in love with Riley, or she thinks she is. From what I’ve heard of Riley since I’ve been here, he’s a no-good fool who wouldn’t know how to treat a woman right, so there’s at least a possibility I can persuade her to, well, to fall in love with me instead.” 

He looked at Paula to see how she was taking this. His last remark had surprised her, but she nodded thoughtfully. “You’re hoping that will cause her to go to wherever Kid is being held to tell this Riley that she doesn’t love him any more, and you can follow her. That’s brilliant, as far as it goes, but how do you plan to get her attention? You mustn’t assume that all women are like me. They won’t just fall in love with you the moment they see you.”

Blushing violently, Heyes shook his head. “No, I know that! I mean, it’s not the same …” Feeling the ground shaky under his feet, he stopped, offering a charming smile instead.

“Go on,” Paula encouraged him.

“Well, I’m going to copy out and memorize half a dozen of these poems. I’ve already told Miss Martin I compose poetry, and I want to send some of it home to my mother, but I never learned how to write. I asked if she’d write them down for me. She was quite willing, and asked me to come to the school house tomorrow night, so we can start.”

“You think that will work?”

“It’ll work, because she’s a fragile little Eastern lady who wears her heart on her sleeve, as the saying is. If I pick the right poems, and say them as emotionally as I can, she’ll start thinking I’m this sweet, sensitive, innocent boy who would be just perfect for her. The complete opposite of Riley—at least, I hope so.”

“It’s also the complete opposite of who you really are. That will take some careful acting.”

Heyes grinned. “You think I can’t carry it off?”

“I think you can—you’re an excellent actor when the situation requires it—but you’re going to need my help.”

“I am?” It had not occurred to Heyes that she’d want to help.

“Certainly. You’re going to have to sweep the lady off her feet, and you’ve never actually done that before. You did nothing of the kind last January, when you proposed to me. And you had the advantage of already knowing that I loved you, which is not the case here. With the sort of lady you’ve described, for example, the last thing you’d want to do is to be charming. I think that might make her draw back. And any passion will frighten her. If you’re right in your description of Riley’s behaviour, he sounds the sort of man who’s primarily interested in her physical attractions, so you want to offer her something completely different—a man who’s attracted to her mind and heart. You’ll kiss her later, when the time is right, but you must be very careful.”

Heyes was speechless. He had thought she would object, and here she was giving him very detailed advice on how to carry the outrageous plan to completion, complete with any necessary kisses. 

“You see what I mean, Heyes,” said Paula earnestly. “What you’ll need to display to her is enthusiasm and romantic starry-eyed stupidity.”[4]

“Yeah, I guess so.” Heyes chuckled at this description. “I think you’re right. Maybe tomorrow you could try to meet her or at least see her. She eats lunch at the café here—most everybody in town does.”

“I should be delighted. Perhaps I can find out something that will help us. Meanwhile, what I suggest is that you practise with me everything you want to say to her, so that you’ll be ready for any problems as they arise. I can meet you here every evening when you come back from seeing her. I have the next room on this side, and there’s a connecting door, which my key fits.”

“Not good for your reputation, if anybody sees you sneaking into a man’s room.”

“Bother my reputation. No one knows me here. But if we use the connecting door, no one will see me. You wouldn’t want a story like that to get back to Miss Martin anyway. I shall be most careful.”

“All right, we’ll do it that way. And, darling? Thanks for your help.” He kissed her briefly. “You’d better go now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

They followed the plan they had devised, meeting together every night after Heyes’s return from the school house. Paula went through every scene with him that he had planned, giving advice as best she could on how to attract Miss Martin without arousing her suspicions. She had had the opportunity to observe the lady, even to exchange a few words with her at church on Sunday, and she found herself in complete agreement with Heyes’s description. Fragile and emotionally over-sensitive was an excellent way to characterize Miss Martin.

Heyes went to church by himself on the 21st, Paula having chosen to sit as far away from him as she could, and was surprised to see Doc Holliday there as well. The gambler sat in the very back so that his occasional fits of coughing would be less likely to disturb the meeting, but he stayed for the entire service, listening as attentively to the sermon as everybody else.

On the next evening, when Paula came to Heyes’s room to talk things over, he told her things were moving quickly with Miss Martin. He had already risked a kiss, and from her response he was encouraged to think that she was indeed falling in love with him, or at least with the man that he had allowed her to believe that he was. He hoped to bring matters to a conclusion the following day. “It’s going to be complicated,” he finished. “I want you to keep to your room tomorrow, in case I need to talk things over with you before I go see her.”

“I’ll be here. Just knock on the connecting door.” Paula stood on tiptoe to kiss him, laying her hands lightly on his shoulders. By common consent, they were engaging in no long kisses or embraces while Kid was not there to chaperon them.

**Ashford, Tuesday, May 23d**

In the afternoon, when Heyes had explained to Paula what he planned to do that night, she offered to work through the entire scene with him, pretending to be Miss Martin so he could practice what he had to say and do. She thought that the plan of appearing to win seven thousand dollars from Doc Holliday at poker, so he could rush off to tell Miss Martin that he now had enough money to take her to Mexico to be married, had every chance of success, but it would have to be carefully played. They practiced the entire scene with several different variations, until both were satisfied that he was ready to do his best. 

As Heyes went down to the saloon, where Doc Holliday was waiting for him, he felt a twinge of conscience. Not only was he intending to be extraordinarily cruel to Miss Martin—he shuddered to think of the scene when she realized what he had done to her and why—but he had been blithely discussing with Paula how to romance another woman. True, his betrothed hadn’t indicated that she had any objections—quite otherwise, in fact, since she had been helping him from the beginning—but she couldn’t possibly approve of what he was doing. Could she? And another worry nagged at the back of his mind. He was a follower of Christ now—how could he reconcile that with this confidence scheme, even though done from the best of motives? He put such worries firmly aside. If he found Kid, it would be worth everything. Right now, he had to play poker.

Later that night, Heyes followed Miss Martin as she left the school house, not daring to get too close lest she should hear him. She disappeared into the darkness ahead and he hesitated, praying for a miracle. If he lost her now … the stillness was suddenly shattered by the muffled sound of a gun shot. Sure of his direction now, he pushed his horse forward quickly, almost immediately finding Miss Martin’s horse tied in front of a shed which covered the entrance to a mine shaft. He scrambled down the ladder, just in time to intervene as Miss Martin snatched up the dropped revolver and covered the struggling men, commanding “Jones” to let go of Riley. Heyes watched, a little sadly, as Miss Martin stared at him in shock and disbelief. He said gently, “I’m sorry, Amy. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I was just trying to help my friend.”

Then he turned to Kid. “You want to tie him up, or shall I?” 

Kid shook his head. “I’d better hold the gun. My hands aren’t doing too good.”

Heyes took a closer look at the hands. The blood, the marks of the ropes, the evident numbness and pain of returning circulation, though Kid made light of it, suddenly filled him with fury. He was glad, for the sake of Riley’s health, that Kid was holding the gun, because if Heyes had had a gun in his hands, he might not have bothered to tie him up. A blow over the head with the butt of his revolver would have immobilized the banker’s step-son just as well, and would have satisfied Heyes’s desire to commit mayhem.

* * *

[1] Now Manzanola, Colorado.

[2] The dates in this part of the story exactly match—month, day, and year—the dates referenced in the third-season episode “The Ten Days That Shook Kid Curry.” Observe the calendar behind Heyes’s head when he is memorizing poetry, and the day that Miss Martin says her school will be out for the year. Those two items give us the month and the day, and Doc Holliday’s presence in SE Colorado gives us the year, 1882, though during this specific period of time in May 1882, he was actually in jail in Denver. We also know that the temporary marshal of the town of Trinidad in mid-1882, Bat Masterson, refused to arrest Holliday when asked to do so, which gives us a rough location for the town of “Ashford.”

[3] In the episode, Kid is riding the nervous, head-tossing chestnut that he is seen riding through most of the third season, but since the reason for his changing horses was never explained in a credible way, this has been ignored in favor of his continuing to ride the black bay he obviously loves.

[4] Which is exactly what Roger Davis’s Heyes did. For him, it seemed to almost be part of his real personality, but for the real Heyes, it would definitely require acting.


	4. Heyes Faces a Difficult Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having rescued Kid Curry from the hands of kidnappers, Heyes has reason to feel pleased with himself. But he still has to deal with the problems he created by attempting to court one woman while being betrothed to another. Can he do that successfully, while explaining matters to Doc Holliday and delivering a letter in Junction City as their attorney requested months earlier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following the end of this chapter, I have included an appendix of sorts, giving references to the poems which were used in the episode "The Ten Days That Shook Kid Curry." The script writers desired to convey the idea that a quiet little rancher's wife in 1882 had written a number of poems, but they did not wish to go to the trouble of actually writing the poetry needed for the episode, so they borrowed from several different 18th- and 19th-century poets, several of whom were women. All the poems used are listed, with notes as to any changes made, and the list is followed by the complete text of John Keble's poem "The Twenty-fourth Sunday After Trinity," which was apparently supposed to be used, but did not make it into the final version of the episode.

**Ashford, Wednesday, May 24th**

Early Wednesday morning, the residents of Ashford were edified by the sight of the missing Willard Riley, riding into town with the proceeds of the bank robbery slung over his saddle horn, while the suspect, Thaddeus Jones, rode behind him. The return of the money and the telling of Riley’s story went well enough, and soon Kid was able to go over to the café, where he had promised to meet his partner for a long-anticipated hearty breakfast.

Heyes was waiting for him, and about twenty minutes later the two of them were joined by Miss Wellington, who came up to Kid with tears in her eyes. “Kid!” she exclaimed softly. “Thank God you’re all right! I’m so glad! I’ve been praying ever since I got here on the seventeenth and found you were missing. You are all right, aren’t you?” Her eyes rested on his hands.

“Yeah, nothing that a day or two won’t mend. Thanks, Paula.” Still very tired, Kid allowed his partner to order food for all of them while he sat quietly, drinking his coffee.

The door to the street opened to admit Doc Holliday. Seeing the two friends together, sitting with a lady whom he did not know, he walked over to join them.

Heyes looked up. “Paula, dear, let me introduce Dr. John Henry Holliday. Doc, I don’t think you’ve met my fiancée, though she was with us when we were in Tombstone in December—Miss Wellington.”

The Georgia dentist bowed over the lady’s hand with a grace that she hadn’t seen since she’d left Great Britain, and professed himself charmed to make her acquaintance. Accepting an invitation to join the party for breakfast, he sat down, determined to find out more about this intriguing situation. Heyes filled him in on some of the details as they ate, downplaying Amy Martin’s part in the bank robbery, though Holliday was shrewd enough to deduce a good deal for himself. As Heyes described the rescue of his partner, Holliday’s eyes went to Kid’s wrists and hands.

“Thaddeus, why don’t you let me take a look at those hands? I’m a dentist, not a doctor, but I know something about treating wounds. I’d be happy to come up to your room after breakfast.”

“Thanks, Doc. I won’t say no. I don’t think there’s anything seriously wrong, but I’d appreciate it if you’d look.”

“Miss Wellington, have you been in this country long? It sounds as if you have spent time in London.”

“You have a sharp ear, Doctor. I was born in Scotland and raised mostly in London except for the summers. My brother and I have been here about ten years. We have a horse ranch in the northern part of the state. If you don’t mind my asking, sir, I was curious about your name. I’ve heard of you, but only as Doc Holliday. I didn’t know that your true name was John Henry Holliday. It’s an odd coincidence, because when my father was up at Oxford, he studied under a man he greatly admired—John Henry Newman, who is now a Roman Catholic cardinal.”

Doc chuckled, which brought on a short fit of coughing. When he had restored his handkerchief to his pocket, he replied, “It’s no coincidence, dear lady. I was named for Father Newman, as he was at the time of my birth.[1] My father and my uncle both had a great respect and admiration for his writings. My uncle subsequently became Roman Catholic himself and married a Catholic lady. They raised their daughter—my cousin—in that faith, and not too long ago she entered the Sisters of Charity in Atlanta. Her religious name is Sister Melanie.”

“That’s a remarkable story! And is that the same order which has a mission in Trinidad, just south of here?”

“The very same.”

“Please, Doctor,” said Paula, observing with some dismay that after deadening his cough with a swig from the flask he carried in his pocket, Holliday was merely picking at his food. “You mustn’t let me keep you from eating. I understand that what you drank would help that cough, sir, but that cannot be all you plan to take for breakfast. Whiskey is no substitute for good food.”

With a chuckle, Holliday began to eat. A little worried at the turn the conversation had taken, Heyes was relieved that he did not appear to be offended, but took the lady’s interest in his health as the courtesy it was intended to be. As his betrothed and the notorious gunslinger continued to talk, Heyes said quietly to his cousin, “He’s gotten more information out of her in ten minutes than I have in almost two years.”

“Guess you weren’t askin’ the right questions, Joshua.” Kid laughed at him. “It’s a good thing she’s engaged to you. You don’t have to worry that she’ll be attracted to him.”

Heyes frowned. “As a matter of fact, that brings up something I want to talk to you about. It’ll keep until after Doc has seen your hands. 

*** *** ***

Hearing Miss Wellington’s special knock on the door of the hotel room, Kid called to her to come in. Doc Holliday was anointing the lacerations and abrasions on his hands with a salve of his own, having approved the use of the infallible remedy that the outlaws referred to as ‘Mac’s Magic Potion’—the tincture of catnip, valerian, and willow bark that Dr. MacKenzie had prescribed for pain and sleeplessness the previous spring. Holliday had also given Kid a homœopathic pellet of arnica, and told him how to make an aqueous solution from it, so he could take a swallow of it every few hours to help his body heal from the bruises.

Brushing off his patient’s thanks, Holliday prepared to take his departure. “Doctor, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay for just a little longer, until Joshua returns,” said Paula. “I had some things to tell Thaddeus, here—I shouldn’t mind your hearing them as well—and I need a chaperon, if I’m to be in the room with him.”

“Certainly. I shall be honored.” Holliday resumed his seat, the nearly dormant Southern gentleman in him understanding the dilemma perfectly.

“Thaddeus, I thought you should know what your partner actually did to find you. I suspect he won’t tell you.”

“He told me a little, while we were waiting for you at the café, but not much.”

She explained what Heyes had done to Amy Martin, and told Kid that she had helped to advise him. “I know it was a terrible thing to do, but he didn’t have any choice if he wanted to find you alive. It succeeded, and no one was seriously harmed. Miss Martin will be able to get over it, I believe, now that she knows that he wasn’t just treating her with cynical contempt.”

“I thought he was a little upset,” said Kid. “Now I understand why. I think I would be, too, if I’d had to do such a thing and Lillian knew about it. At least, when you agreed to help him, he knew that it didn’t bother you.” He looked at her sharply. “Unless it _did_ bother you. He seemed to think it was going to. I thought he’d be happy this morning. Everything turned out all right, he found me—with your help, Doc, and we appreciate that—we recovered the money from the robbery, and you’re here. But he isn’t happy.”

“It didn’t bother me, and I told him so. He’s probably just exhausted from the strain of the past week. Everything will be well enough, I’m sure. I must go now and leave you to get some rest.” She rose and left the room as Doc Holliday held the door open for her.

*** *** ***

Just as Kid was leaning his head back against the pillow, sleepy now after taking a dose of the ‘magic potion,’ his partner slipped quietly into the room without knocking, as usual. Having been expecting him, Kid made no attempt to draw his gun. 

Heyes sat down, flinging his hat onto the writing table, and ran his fingers through his hair. “Where’s Paula?”

“She went back to her room. Said she wanted to let me get some rest. She was here for a while, telling me about what you went through to find me. Don’t worry, Doc was here, too—in fact, she asked him to stay and chaperon her. Heyes, I know you don’t want to hear it, but that’s one I owe you. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d probably be dead. Thanks.” Kid held out his hand.

Heyes gripped the hand. “Forget it. Besides, I had to find you—Riley was probably gettin’ bored stiff, lookin’ after you. Did Paula tell you she helped me?”

“She sure did. She thought you’d need help with sweeping a lady off her feet, said you didn’t strike her as being very good at it.” Kid grinned. “I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“No harm done. She said something very like that to me.” 

“You act like you got a burr under your saddle!” What’s up?”

Heyes’s smile faded. “I’ve got to see her. I can’t take this much longer”

“Can’t take _what_?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

As the door shut noisily behind him, Kid reflected, not by any means for the first time, how glad he was that he and his betrothed managed to communicate without so many difficulties. “Be sure to come back and tell me what happened,” he said to the shut door.

Heyes knocked on the door of Paula’s room. Deliberately, he had gone out into the corridor rather than asking her to open the connecting door as they had done every night for a week. He wanted her to feel free to refuse him entry if she wished, which she could hardly do if they used the connecting door. Late on a Wednesday morning, there was no one about in the hotel to see him going into her room alone, if she did admit him.

Recognizing his knock, Paula came to the door immediately and swung it wide, stepping back to allow him to enter. A little surprised to see he was alone, she motioned him in and shut the door. Heyes kissed her briefly, since she was obviously waiting for him to do so, then stepped back.

“Sit down, sweetheart.”

Heyes shook his head. She took his hand and pulled him over to a chair, then sat down on the edge of the bed, her knee almost touching his. “Darling, what is it?” she prompted, seeing the trouble in his face.

Heyes blurted, “I can’t stand the suspense. Get it over with.”

“Get _what_ over with?”

“I keep waitin’ for you to break it off with me!” He sprang up and paced the floor, agitated.

“What?!!” She turned pale, feeling her knees go weak. “Why on earth would I do such a thing?”

Heyes interrupted. “Why wouldn’t you? After what I did?” 

She seized one of his hands in both of hers, holding it so tightly he couldn’t free himself without using force. “You made Miss Martin fall in love with you so she would lead you to Kid before it was too late, and it worked. He’s going to be all right, and so is she. You didn’t do her any serious harm—you hurt her, of course, but we knew that was going to happen. You said you were going to break her heart, and well, all I can say is she had it coming to her, after what she did to Kid. Lillian’s not here, so I’ll say that on her behalf.”

“Yes, but …” protested Heyes.

“And since nothing one earth would induce me to return the rings you gave me, I’m keeping them, _and_ you.”

There was no answering smile. “You don’t want me,” said Heyes. “Not now. You’re probably jealous, and I understand that, even though you’ve no cause.”

“Jealous?” exclaimed Paula. “Why? It’s I who have your ring, not Miss Martin.” She appeared to have gotten his attention with that. “Well?” she demanded. “Are you planning to go to Boston to see her some day? Or perhaps to see Julia?”[2]

Heyes shook his head.

“Forgive me for being unladylike—did you … that is, were you intimate with her, over-night?”

“No!” Heyes exclaimed, with considerable emphasis.

“Then what am I supposed to be upset about? Did you fall in love with her?”

Heyes shook his head again. “I’ve never been in love with anyone but you, not really.”

“That’s what I thought. What more could I ask for? I have your ring, and your promise, and I have your heart— don’t I?”

“You know you do.” Heyes looked down. He couldn’t seem to get across what he was sure was the true problem. “It’s the—the betrayal, for lack of a better word. What I did to her—you saw it. Doesn’t that bother you, that I could hurt a woman so badly on purpose?”

“It’s Miss Martin you betrayed, not me. I _was_ just a bit frightened. I would almost have said you didn’t have it in you to behave so ruthlessly. But it’s a good thing for Kid that you did. I think … Hannibal, it would be different if you had been in love with her, which I know you were not, however much you made her think you were.”

Heyes was silent. He had nothing to say that had not been said already. He just watched her with serious dark eyes. Finally, unable to keep standing there in silence, he began to pace again. 

Afraid he was about to walk out of the room, Paula flung her arms around his neck. He looked down. She was very close, with her face upturned to his, inviting a kiss, but he would not allow himself to kiss her again.

“Listen, darling,” she said earnestly, “we talked about this before, when you told me about this plan of yours. You did the only thing you could do to save Kid’s life. How could I blame you for that?” She pressed closer, right up against his chest. Heyes tensed, his hands clenching into fists, but he kept them at his sides. 

“Look at it differently, then.” Paula decided if the only way to get something into her stubborn lover’s mind was to hit him over the head with it, then that was what she would do. “Here’s what you’re telling me you ought to have done. You come into town, find that Kid is missing, and deduce that he has been taken somewhere so they can blame him for robbing the bank. The school mistress is the last person known to have seen him, which makes her the only key to finding him before they decide to kill him. You don’t know whether he’s capable of getting himself out of this difficulty, or even whether he might be badly hurt. But you see that I’m here and you realize that I might misunderstand the situation, so you decide you can’t possibly use the only plan you’ve been able to think of.”

She paused. Heyes stared down her in shock.

“You ride off with me, assuming that Kid will get himself free and catch up with us some time or other, but everything will be fine. We’ll just go ahead and get married and not worry about Kid, or about Lillian, either. That’s what you wish you had done? Hannibal,” said Paula, in a low, urgent voice, as he did not answer, “would you do that?”

Heyes took a deep breath. “No. Never.”

“That’s what I hoped to hear,” she said, with decision. “You won’t abandon your partner, who you know is depending on you, so instead you are cruel to one woman, and you risk your future with another—with the woman you plan to marry—because you know there’s nothing else to be done.”

Heyes was watching her closely. He nodded.

“My dear, dear man,” Paula said brokenly, tears streaming down her face, “don’t you understand that’s what I love you for? One of many reasons? You wouldn’t, either of you, be the men Lillian and I love so much were it not for your faithfulness to one another. Kid owes you his life, Heyes—and, and, I love you for that. And now you want me to _leave_ you?”

Seeing that he was speechless, she quoted, between her sobs,

“Entreat me not to leave thee,  
or to return from following after thee:  
for whither thou goest, I will go;  
and where thou lodgest, I will lodge:  
thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:  
Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried:  
the LORD do so to me, and more also,  
if ought but death part thee and me.”[3]

Heyes thought vaguely that what she had just said sounded like a quotation, probably from the Bible, but he had no attention for that now. She was crying so hard that he realized it was incumbent upon him to _do_ something. He touched her face to get her to raise it from his coat, which she was drenching with her tears. Tipping her head back with two fingers under her chin, he began kissing her cheeks to dry them. 

Becoming aware of this, Paula stopped crying. Taking his face between her hands, she kissed him firmly on the lips. _If he’s going to kiss me, after all this delay, he might as well do it properly_. 

With an inarticulate moan, Heyes flung his arms around her, kissing her over and over again, holding her as if he would never let her go. The room dimmed around him for a moment. When his vision cleared, he found himself on top of her as she lay back on the bed, her bosom heaving with her quickened breath. 

As his hand slipped inside the undone buttons at the top of her bodice, her eyes flew open with surprise, and her fingers closed around his wrist. “Hannibal?”

Heyes froze. Then he carefully took his hand from where it had no business being, moved away, and stood up. “I’m sorry, dear heart—I’m sorry! Will you forgive me? I can’t—we can’t do this! You’d regret it all your life. We’re going to wait and be married properly.”

Paula was rather shaken. “Of course I forgive you, especially since I fear the fault was mine. I provoked you.” She paused to catch her breath. “But Heyes, I warn you—I don’t plan to wait much longer on the governor’s convenience.”

That made Heyes laugh, but he stopped at once, looking thoughtful. “You’d marry a wanted outlaw?” he asked, pulling her to her feet, touching only her hands. “Right now?”

She looked up into his face, but made no attempt to kiss him again. “Whenever you like.”

“No.” He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ve got to wait for this amnesty to come through. I can’t ask you to marry me before that. Wouldn’t be fair to you, bein’ married to an owl-hoot. I—I’ve got to check on Kid.” Hastily he picked his hat up from the floor where it had inexplicably landed, and left the room.

Kid was awake, and was extraordinarily pleased to see Heyes come in, looking bewildered and delighted all at once. Then he noticed that his partner looked as if he’d been in a high wind.

Heyes flung himself down in the armchair and heaved a quick sigh, running his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to smooth it down. With a confident smile, he said, “Well, she’s not gonna leave me.”

“You thought she would? Kid sat bolt upright. “Heyes, what have you done? I leave you to your own devices for an hour, and you go gettin’ yourself in trouble!”

“I didn’t do anything,” he protested.

“Sure you didn’t.” Kid swung his feet to the floor. “You come in here looking like that, and … come on, Heyes. We’re goin’ to see her. And you’d better be tellin’ the truth.” He gripped his partner’s elbow to urge him along. 

Protesting his innocence, Heyes allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor to Paula’s room, where Kid knocked sharply on the door, remembering to use their private knock.

Paula swung the door open, rather flustered. “Come in, both of you. Is everything all right?”

“I was about to ask you that,” replied Kid, pulling his partner inside and shutting the door behind them. “What did he do?”

She had buttoned up her bodice and straightened her clothes and the quilt on the bed, but she had not looked in the mirror, and so was surprised at the look of shock on Kid’s face, and the embarrassment on Heyes’s. “Well, we quarrelled briefly. We talked, and he kissed me several times …”

“Look in the mirror, “ Heyes advised her, flushing, but making no attempt to free himself from Kid’s grip on his arm.

She did so, and saw the state of her hair. It was coming loose from the braids, which were coming loose from their pins. “Oh, dear!”

“Still say he didn’t do anything?” Kid pressed her, heedless of the embarrassment such a question might cause. 

“Yes. I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and he was a trifle, ah, enthusiastic, but there’s no harm done. Truly, Kid. And I do thank you for asking, and for coming to check on me.”

“I was gonna suggest we should go out and find some lunch,” said Kid. “But you can’t go any-where like that. We can help you put your hair back up. After all, you and I helped Lillian with hers when she was ill. Come on, Heyes, give me a hand.” He released his cousin’s arm as Paula went to sit at the dressing table.

Heyes came over and pulled one of the hair pins free, then laid it down, flushing to the roots of his hair. “I—I can’t. You’ll have to do it, Kid.” He backed away to the door, tucking his hands firmly under his gun belt.

Giving his partner a long look, but refraining from comment, Kid began to remove hair pins. “How many of these do I look for?”

“Twelve. But I can do it by myself,” Paula protested.

“That’s the last one, then.” Kid laid the handful of pins down on the table. “Now what? We take these braids out, brush and plait them back again? You take one and I’ll take the other.” After this was done, Paula coiled the braids back into a knot and pinned them up again, with only a little help from Kid.

“Thank you.” She gave him a brief smile. “And thank you, Heyes.”

“For what?”

“For not trying to help.” She paused awkwardly, blushing.

Kid rolled his eyes.

Heyes smiled reluctantly. “Let’s go get something to eat.” He offered his arm to Paula and led the way down the stairs. Reaching the hotel lobby, he stopped so suddenly Kid almost bumped into him. “Amy—uh, Miss Martin—usually eats lunch at the café.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to her,” Kid said, “but that’s easy enough. I’ll just walk past her, if she’s there, and find us a table.”

“It’s me you’re worried about, isn’t it? Or rather, you don’t want her to see me with you,” suggested Paula shrewdly, looking at Heyes.

After the scene he had just been through with her, Heyes didn’t even want to think about what might happen if he agreed with that statement. But he also didn’t want to think about the scene Amy Martin might cause if she saw him with another woman to whom he was obviously attracted, even though she now knew that his courtship of her had been a lie.

Her heart wrung by the distress in his face, Paula put her hand on his arm, drawing him back into the dimness of the hotel lobby. “Heyes, it’s quite all right. Let’s go find somewhere else to eat. Surely that cannot be the only café in town.”

Suddenly Heyes met his partner’s eyes and realized he was being a coward. He thought he would rather engage in a gun fight than find himself between two women who might not get along, or might blame him for their difficulties. Then he thought about what Paula might say if she knew what he was afraid of. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped forward, pushing the door open to the street. “No, but it’s the best one—at least that’s what I was told. Come on.”

As they walked across the street and turned right as they reached the boardwalk on the other side, Paula slowed her steps, obliging the men to slow down to stay with her. “If Miss Martin is there, dearest, unless you object, I’d like you to introduce me to her formally.”

“You want me to introduce you as my fiancée?” Heyes was appalled. In his mind, this seemed to just be asking for unnecessary trouble.

“Yes. If you’d rather not, I shan’t insist. But I thought it might actually make her think better of you, and even of herself. Right now she must be wondering what could be wrong with her, that she could fall in love with a man who turned out to be completely indifferent to her. If you give her the explanation that you are already betrothed, I think she would be able to better understand. As she has never seen you and Thaddeus together until last night, she might not understand your loyalty to your partner as a motivation for what you did, but she will certainly understand if you tell her you are already betrothed.” As Heyes hesitated, she added. “It’s your decision. I mean that. I just have a feeling that it would help make matters go more smoothly.”

Quickly thinking it over, Heyes realized she might very well be right. After all, when their former friend Clementine Hale had discovered that Kid was betrothed to Lillian O’More, it had made it easier for her, after the initial shock, to let go of her earlier flirtatious dealings with him. Maybe a woman could understand another woman better than he could. He took a deep breath. “All right, I’ll introduce you.”

When they saw Miss Martin seated at a table near the door, Kid, with a muttered excuse, veered to one side and went to select a table. Heyes presented his fiancée to the woman whom he had deceived into believing that he wanted to marry her. As Miss Wellington had foreseen, it went quite well. When Miss Martin heard that they were betrothed, and had been so for over a year, a look of relief succeeded the strained sadness in her face, and she earnestly offered them both congratulations and her best wishes for their future happiness. A few moments later, Miss Wellington made a graceful excuse, and left Heyes alone with the lady while she joined Kid at the table he had found in the opposite corner.

Heyes caught up to her in a few strides. “There was no need for you to go. I didn’t have anything private to say to her. But—I did offer to see her off on the stage on Friday afternoon. After what I did to her, I thought the least I could do would be to apologize. Now’s not the time, but I can do it then. And you can both come with me. In fact, I wish you would.” His eyes were on his betrothed’s face.

Nodding composedly, Paula said, “That’s good of you. To apologize and see her off. Certainly we’ll be there, but we can wait out of earshot.”

Kid nodded in agreement and turned to the waitress who had come to take their order, setting down cups of hot coffee in front of the two men and turning to Miss Wellington to ask what she would like.

**Ashford, Friday, May 26th**

As the stagecoach gathered speed down the street, Hannibal Heyes stepped back onto the boardwalk and looked over to where Miss Wellington and his partner waited, out of earshot but not out of sight. He walked over and held out his hand to assist his lady to her feet. “I’m sorry, Paula. She seemed to expect me to kiss her good-bye. I couldn’t really see how to avoid it.”

“Yes, I saw that. It tells one that Miss Martin is not quite as much of a lady as she would like people to believe. An unbetrothed woman, accepting a kiss from a man in the middle of the street? Well, it will do her no harm as long as she doesn’t come back to Ashford.” She noticed Heyes’s sheepish look. “And it did you no harm, either. Stop worrying about it.”

“Yeah, O.K.” He nodded. “We talked about what happened a little bit. She’s not mad at me—seems to think I did her some kind of a favor. Maybe she even learned something.” His eyes went from Paula to Kid. “I needed to know that. Can’t say I’m proud of doin’ what I did, but it had to be done.”

*** *** ***

At lunch, after some discussion as to the next move, Heyes said, “If you feel up to it, Kid, I think we’d better plan on taking the next train to Trinidad. We ought to try to reach Junction City by Monday morning. Richard made it pretty clear in his telegraph to me that he was wondering about the delay.”

“Well, you can’t blame him,” drawled Kid. “It’s been two and a half months. He said he wanted us to deliver the letter in person—otherwise he’d have posted it. And he said there was no hurry, but I guess he operates on a different time schedule than we do. As far as movin’ on, my hands still hurt some and I’m pretty stiff, but there’s nothing keepin’ me from riding a horse, or a train for that matter.”

Heyes pulled a railroad timetable from his pocket. “A train comes through here on the way to Trinidad at half past four this afternoon. It’s a slow one, stops at every little town, but it gets to Trinidad at six. We’ll take that one, stay the night in Trinidad, and then catch the train as far as Lamy. We can push on to Santa Fe and go to church there Sunday morning. As I recall, Lamy is just a junction—nothing much there.” 

He flicked his tongue across his lips, thinking. “That puts us less than three hours from Junction City. We can plan on gettin’ there before noon on Monday. We’ll get pretty close to the town, find a place to wait, and Paula can go in alone with the letter. That was Richard’s plan, in case Judge Hanley doesn’t want to see us in his town in person or won’t guarantee us safe conduct.”

Nods of agreement greeted his quick look around the table. “Good,” said Heyes. “We’ve got about two hours before the train comes. I’ll make the arrangements about the horses.”

* * *

Appendix: Poems used in “The Ten Days That Shook Kid Curry,” with notes

A. Fragments used earlier in the episode, when Heyes was memorizing them in his hotel room:

  1. ’Tis hard to smile when one would weep;



To speak when one would silent be;  
(from “The Lot of Thousands”, by Anne Hunter. Published in _A Collection of Poems, Chiefly Manuscript, and From Living Authors_. Joanna Baillie, ed. 1823.)

  1. …Loved, native land!



Alas! when distant, far more dear!  
When he, from some c…  
(from “On a Sprig of Heath, by Mrs. Grant, ca. 1827. The original is “Flower of his dear-loved, native land! Alas! when distant, far more dear! When he, from some cold foreign strand, looks homeward through the blinding tear…”

  1. …desert, I love to ride,



With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side:  
When the wild turmoil of this wearisome life,  
… (6 lines omitted)…  
And my soul is sick with the bondman’s sigh—  
(from “Afar in the Desert”, by Thomas Pringle, ca. 1876.)

B. Poems Heyes quoted to Amy Martin:

  1. “The Dream,” published in _The Dream and Other Poems_ , by the Hon. Mrs. Norton, London, 1840, from p. 13.



The piece is described as an extract from “The Dream,” and is referenced in an essay entitled “Modern English Poetesses” on p. 202 of _The London Quarterly Review_ , Vol. 65, September—December 1840. William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero, John Murray, eds. American edition. New York: Jemima M. Mason, Corner of Broadway and Pine Street, 1840.

Oft, since that hour, in sadness I retrace  
My childhood’s vision of thy calm sweet face ;  
Oft see thy form, its mournful beauty shrouded  
In thy black weeds, and coif of widow’s woe ;  
Thy dark, expressive eyes all dim and clouded  
By that deep wretchedness the lonely know ;  
… (12 lines not used) …  
Ah! how my selfish heart, which since hath grown  
Familiar with deep trials of its own  
With riper judgment looking to the past,  
Regrets the careless days that flew so fast,  
Stamps with remorse each wasted hour of time  
And darkens every folly into crime.

  1. “The Orphan Boy’s Tale,” published in _Poems by Mrs. Opie_ , by Mrs. (Amelia) Opie, London, 1800, 149-151, quoted in _The Universal Magazine_ , CX (March 1802), p. 207. This is the second of five stanzas. Lincoln’s name is substituted for that of Nelson in the original, which references the Battle of the Nile, a naval battle fought in 1798.



Poor, foolish child, how pleased was I,  
When news of Lincoln’s victory came, (original has “Nelson’s victory”)  
Along the crowded streets to fly  
And see the lighted windows flame.  
To force me home my mother sought.  
She could not bear to see my joy,  
For with my father’s life ’twas bought  
And I was made an orphan boy.

  1. “To A Sleeping Child,” by John Wilson, published in _The Poetical Works of Professor Wilson_ , London and Edinburgh: Blackwood & Sons, 1858, p. 223. 



(Part of stanza one of 14 stanzas)

Art thou a thing of mortal birth,  
Whose happy home is on this earth? (original has “our earth”)  
… (1 line not used)…  
Those wandering veins of heavenly blue  
That stray along thy forehead fair,  
Lost, ’mid a gleam of golden hair !  
… (4 lines not used)…  
[Or] Art thou what thy form would seem, (the word “Or” is not in the original)  
The phantom of a blessed dream !  
… (12 more lines not used)…

None of the poetry in the episode as broadcast is from John Keble’s poem “The Twenty-fourth Sunday After Trinity”, in spite of what the book _Alias Smith and Jones: The Story of Two Pretty Good Bad Men_ said about it having been used in the episode. It’s possible that it was intended to be used, and then the script was changed, or that it was used and the scene was later cut. The general tone of the poem is similar to some of the fragments that _were_ used in the episode. The full text is below:

The heart knoweth his own bitterness: and a stranger doth not  
intermeddle with his joy. Proverbs xiv. 10.  
  
Why should we faint and fear to live alone,  
Since all alone, so Heaven has will’d, we die,  
Nor e’en the tenderest heart, and next our own,  
Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh ?  
  
Each in his hidden sphere of joy or woe  
Our hermit spirits dwell, and range apart,  
Our eyes see all around in gloom or glow—  
Hues of their own, fresh borrow’d from the heart.  
  
And well it is for us our GOD should feel  
Alone our secret throbbings : so our prayer  
May readier spring to Heaven, nor spend its zeal  
On cloud-born idols of this lower air.  
  
For if one heart in perfect sympathy  
Beat with another, answering love for love,  
Weak mortals, all entranc’d, on earth would lie,  
Nor listen for those purer strains above.  
  
Or what if Heaven for once its searching light  
Lent to some partial eye, disclosing all  
The rude bad thoughts, that in our bosom’s night  
Wander at large, nor heed Love’s gentle thrall?  
  
Who would not shun the dreary uncouth place ?  
As if, fond leaning where her infant slept,  
A mother’s arm a serpent should embrace :  
So might we friendless live, and die unwept.  
  
Then keep the softening veil in mercy drawn,  
Thou who canst love us, tho’ Thou read us true;  
As on the bosom of th’ aerial lawn  
Melts in dim haze each coarse ungentle hue.  
  
So too may soothing Hope Thy leave enjoy  
Sweet visions of long-sever’d hearts to frame :  
Though absence may impair, or cares annoy,  
Some constant mind may draw us still the same.  
  
We in dark dreams are tossing to and fro,  
Pine with regret, or sicken with despair,  
The while she bathes us in her own chaste glow,  
And with our memory wings her own fond prayer.  
  
O bliss of child-like innocence, and love  
Tried to old age ! creative power to win,  
And raise new worlds, where happy fancies rove,  
Forgetting quite this grosser world of sin.  
  
Bright are their dreams, because their thoughts are clear,  
Their memory cheering: but th’ earth-stained spright,  
Whose wakeful musings are of guilt and fear,  
Must hover nearer earth, and less in light.  
  
Farewell, for her, th’ ideal scenes so fair—  
Yet not farewell her hope, since Thou hast deign’d,  
Creator of all hearts ! to own and share  
The woe of what Thou mad’st, and we have stain’d.  
  
Thou know’st our bitterness—our joys are Thine—

No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild :  
Nor could we bear to think, how every line  
Of us, Thy darken’d likeness and defil’d,  
  
Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye,  
But that Thou call’st us Brethren : sweet repose  
Is in that word—the LORD who dwells on high  
Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows. 

* * *

[1] Some histories of Doc Holliday indicate that his first and middle name may have been in honor of family members rather than John Henry Newman; however, it is true that his uncle was a Catholic, and the coincidence seems too marked to be ignored.

[2] q.v. the first-season episode “The Man Who Murdered Himself.”

[3] Ruth 1:16-17, Authorized Version


End file.
